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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



AN UNKNOWN HEROINE 




AN HISTORICAL EPISODE OF THE WAR 
BETWEEN THE STATES 




L. E. OHITTE^DElSr 

Authoj^ of " Personal Recollections, 1S40-1S90, " etc. 




NEW YORK S' 

RICHMOND, CEOSCUP & CO. 
1893 



9<^6i/)l 



N- 



1 



C'OPYKIGHT. 1S9S, 

By RICHMOND, CROSCUP & CO 




MRS. VAN METRE. 



AS A SLIGHT 
RECOGNITION OF HIS HOSPITALITY 

AND OF 

HIS ASSIST 4.NCE IN VERIFYING THE NOBLE EXAMPLE OF 
ONE OF HIS NEIGHBORS, 

IT BcMcate tbls \DoIume 

TO 

MAJOR DAINQERFIELD LEWIS, 

OF AUDLEY, 
NEAR BERRYVILLE, VIRGINIA. 

THE AUTHOR. 



OO^STTEIsTTS. 



CHAPTER 

I. —Introductory, 



PAGE 

7 
11 
35 



II. — The Valley of Virghstia, .... 
III. — A Home in Vermont before the War, 
IV. — The Trumpet -Call of War in the Green Moun- 
tains, 32 

v.— The Call to Arms in the Valley, . . .38 
VI. — How A Brave Man Met the Heavy Stroke of 

Merciless War, 43 

VII. — Deserted, 53 

VIII.— The Unconscious Heroine 65 

IX.— The Consultation — The Country Doctor — The 

Decision of the Heroine, . . . .76 
X.— The First Expedition to Harper's Ferry, . 85 
XI.— The Peculiarities of the Country Doctor— The 
Removal and Concealment under Difficul- 
ties OF A Stalwart Enemy, . . . .96 
XII. — The Dream which was Not all a Dream, . 105 
XIII.— The Battle of Opequan or Winchester— The 
Progress op the Wounded Officer — The 
Skill and Enterprise of His Hostess, . . 116 
XIV.— The Battle -Fields of Winchester — The Search 
FOR A Forgotten Grave — An Act to be Hon- 
ored BY Brave Soldiers and Emulated by 

True Women, 126 

3 



4 CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XV.— A Side View of the Battle of Cedar Creek, 

WITH "Sheridan Twenty Miles Away," . 134 
XVI.— The Terrible Harvest of War— The Prep- 
aration FOR the Escape of the Wounded 

Officer, 153 

XVII.— The Escape, 165 

XVIII.— Rest and Preparation for the Search, . 181 
XIX.— A Time of New Trouble and Anxiety', . 195 
XX.— The'Afflictions of the Mule-Owner— Prep- 
arations for the Search for a Prisoner 
OF War— The Separation of the Friends, 210 
XXI.— In the Den of the Ogre, the Terrible Sec- 
retary, 223 

XXII.— The First Failure in the Search, . . 233 
XXIII.— The Bloody Angle— The Prisoner and His 

Betrayer 241 

XXIV. — "What I did for Him I Thought Some 
Northern Woman Might do for my' Hus- 
band," 253 

XXV. — And the Recompense of a Man's Hands 

shall be Rendered unto Him, . . . 263 
XXVI. — " I HAVE not Found so Great Faith ; no, not 

IN Israel," 272 

XXVII. — The Hard Lot of a Prisoner of War— One 
of Them Touches the End of His Suffer- 
ings 286 

XXVIII.— "Weeping may' Endure for a Night, but Joy 

Cometh in the Morning," . . . .301 



ILLUSTEATIOIsrS. 



Portrait of Mrs. Van Metre, . . , Frontispiece 

Portrait of Major Bedell, Page 129 

Map of Shenandoah Valley, . . . . " 147 



AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 



CHAPTEE I. 

INTRODUCTORY 



While this volume does not aspire to the dig- 
nity of history, the somewhat hackneyed title 
of a story founded on fact cannot properly he ap- 
plied to it. It is substantially a true story. Every 
character in it existed, the essential facts stated, 
occurred in the order here given. Truth has spun 
from her own materials the entire warp and 
much of the woof which has been woven into 
this fabric. It is only when some of the less 
important of the materials seemed to be wanting 
that the author has felt at liberty to supply them, 
always adhering as closely as possible to the 
probabilities and to what he supposed the fact 
to be. 

The author was not present at the numerous 
interviews between the leading persons and no 
records exist of their conversations. We know 
from subsequent events that such conversations 

7 



» AN UNKXOWX HEROINE. 

were held — they are necessary to the relation. 
Instead of omitting the language of these inter- 
views and leaving his work imperfect, the author 
has attempted to supply it. And there were re- 
sults which must have been preceded by unre- 
corded causes. Those causes have in a few in- 
stances been given as the writer supposes they 
must have existed. Such is the whole extent to 
which he has departed from the record. This 
being understood, it is not believed that the 
charm which truth gives to every book will be 
materially diminished, while on the other hand 
the volume will be rendered more interesting and 
attractive. 

■ A brief recapitulation will show that the author 
was under no necessity which called for the in- 
vention of facts, and afford another proof that 
truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. 

The Union officer enlisted, served, was desjjer- 
ately wounded, left when the army retired, all as 
herein stated. In his desolate solitude, when 
very near to death, he was discovered by the 
heroine, a young woman who had not completed 
her nineteenth year, whose husband and brothers 
were Confederate soldiers ; her husband a prisoner. 
She removed the Union officer to her own dwell- 
ing, and with the assistance of the country doctor 
nursed him back to life. She made journeys to 
Harper's Ferry for supplies, to Cedar Creek for 
his clothing. She experienced all the vicissitudes : 



INTRODUCTORY. 9 

aided in his escape and accompanied him to Har- 
per's Ferry and Washington, procured an order 
for the release of her husband, found him and 
went to Vermont with the Union officer, all as 
herein written. Such a plot needs no additions. 
It is so extraordinary that the author would hesi- 
tate to indorse its truth if he had not visited the 
localities, conversed with the parties, and found 
it confirmed in so many particulars that to doubt 
it further would be affectation. 

When, through the assistance of Mrs. Van 
Metre, the Union officer reached Harper's Ferry 
and was safe within the Union lines, he found 
that the story of his abandonment and the efficient 
conduct of his nurse, to which he owed the pres- 
ervation of his life, was already well known to 
General Stevenson, then in command at that 
post. Of his own accord General Stevenson im- 
mediately communicated the substance of the 
story to Secretary Stanton by letter. The 
answer of the Secretary was an order for the 
immediate release of Mrs. Van Metre's husband, 
then supposed to be confined in Fort Delaware. 
The next day Mrs. Van Metre received by mail 
the following letter, the original of which has 
been in the hands of the author of this book. It 
proves that her conduct was highly appreciated 
by Secretary Stanton at the time, and is one of 
the numerous evidences which have been fur- 
nished of the truth of the narrative here given. 



10 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

The letter referred to reads as follows : 

"Washington City, D. C, 

"Nov. 4th, 1864. 
"Mrs. Van Metre, Harper's Ferry. 

'■'■Madam: — It is with unfeigned pleasure that 
I comply with the instructions of the Secretary 
of War and inform you that he has ordered the 
unconditional discharge of your husband, now at 
Fort Delaware. 

"Mr. Stanton has been sensibly touched by 
the report received through General Stevenson 
of your noble and humane conduct toward a 
wounded Federal officer and soldier, and without 
a moment's delay has acted upon the suggestion 
of General Stevenson and ordered the discharge 
of your husband, as some acknowledgment of the 
feminine goodness and nobleness manifested in 
your person. 

"If such an example could but extensively find 
imitations, it would do infinite honor to your sex 
and greatly relieve war of some of its most bar- 
barous tendencies. 

"Very respectfully your obedient servant, 
"E. A. Hitchcock, 
• "Maj.-Gen. Vols." 



CHAPTEE II. 

THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA. 

There are localities in our favored land which 
nature has made as beautiful as a poet's dream. 
In a country which comprises every kind of 
natural scenery; where mountain, valley, lake, 
river, and plain are found in every possible com- 
bination, no one spot can be selected as the most 
attractive. Opinions vary. Standing upon the 
brink of a canon, looking down along its perpen- 
dicular walls to the river bounding over its rocky 
bed six thousand feet below, then looking upward 
above the glaciers and eternal snows two miles 
into the blue ether, one may well say, " This is 
indeed grand !" The domes of the Yosemite, the 
geysers of the National Park, the thunders of 
Niagara, and the sublime scenes where once rolled 
the Oregon and "heard no sound save his own 
dashings," fill every beholder with wonder and 
admiration. To the writer, the great forest 
which clothes the western slope of the Sierra 
Nevada is one of the mightiest works of nature. 
We are now interested in a less imposing but 
more beautiful picture. 

11 



12 AX UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

The Shenandoah Valley, otherwise known as 
the Garden of Virginia, is flanked by two noble 
mountain ranges extending southward from the 
Potomac River. Its width varies from twelve to 
thirty miles. About one-third of its extent from 
the river another mountain range rises abruptly, 
converting the one into two valleys. The foot- 
hills on either side slope gradually away, forming 
a succession of moderate elevations, between 
which silvery streams from the mountains drain 
the region. The valley of the Shenandoah, the 
Luray, and the other valleys, originally settled 
by an industrious class of emigrants, have been 
divided into farms and brought under a high 
state of cultivation. The primitive forest of oak, 
chestnut, magnolia, and tulii^ trees once covered 
the entire valley and the surrounding mountain 
slopes. This forest has been largely cleared 
away, but many noble trees still remain to shade 
the highways and the grounds about the resi- 
dences. Broad turnpikes traverse the whole 
section. There are many passes through the 
mountains, called "gaps," and in each of these is 
a highway which bisects the turnpikes. A large 
river flows through the valley in a very crooked 
course, furnishing abundant water to the farms, 
which are also well watered by the streams and 
creeks from the " gaps " on either side. The main, 
or Shenandoah valley was the theatre of the prin- 
cipal events which it is our purpose to describe. 



THE VALLEY OP VIRGINIA. 13 

In the later days of November, 1860, a geolo- 
gist and mining engineer just returned from 
Heidelberg, where he had graduated with hon- 
ors, was employed to make some explorations in 
the county of Eockbridge. He had heard such 
accounts of the region that, being in no especial 
haste, he determined to approach it from Harper's 
Ferry on horseback. At that place he hired a 
horse which proved to be a very fine animal, and 
sending his trunks and geological tools forward 
by stage, was ready to begin his journey. But 
first, from such maps and information as he 
could collect, he arranged an itinerary which 
gave him a daily ride of twenty or twent3'--five 
miles, and brought him at evening to some ham- 
let or village where there was a hotel. He had 
not yet learned what he soon ascertained, that 
country hotels were not a necessity, the traveller 
being welcome at almost any dwelling along the 
road he was travelling. 

He had passed through the quiet town of 
Charlestown, the capital of Jefferson County, 
where John Brown attempted his crazy enterprise 
and met his fate, into the adjoining county of 
Clarke. Here he was upon the territory originally 
owned by Lord Fairfax, which was surveyed by 
Washington before he became eminent as a sol- 
dier. The practiced eye of the general appreci- 
ated the fertility of the soil, and he became, by 
purchase from the lord of the manor, the owner 



14 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

of many large tracts of land in this vicinity. 
Many of his descendants settled upon these lands 
and some of them occupy them at the present 
time. From the fine, large, rambling buildings 
always provided with broad lawns and shaded by 
noble trees they still dispense that liberal, kindly 
hospitality which makes a visit to one of these 
families an oasis in the life of a resident of the 
city — an event long to be remembered in the 
journal of the traveller. 

Where the turnpike entered the county of 
Clarke it brought the engineer in view of a 
scene as beautiful as his eyes had ever beheld. 
The mountains on either side were covered to 
their tops with a forest of deciduous trees. Their 
foliage, now in its ripened maturity, painted the 
landscape with an exquisite combination of neu- 
tral tints and rich colors. Lower down, the foot- 
hills gave the country a rolling surface, and 
among them nestled many a picturesque rural 
homestead. From the mountains rapid streams 
dashed over their rocky beds down to the lower 
lands and then wound their crooked ways between 
fringes of alder and willow. Around many of 
the dwellings large trees of primitive growth had 
been left, to shade the avenues and approaches. 
Orchards laden with golden fruit were common. 
The lovely landscape, the pure atmosphere, the 
blue sky, filled the horseman with new strength 
and vigor and had a similar effect upon the 



THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA. 15 

animal he rode. "This view is worth all the 
time and cost of my journey," said the horseman 
to himself, "if I never see the boundary line of 
Rockbridge County." 

He was most impressed, however, by the amaz- 
ing fertility of the soil. It seemed to be a reddish 
loam which everywhere produced an abundant 
harvest. There were few outbuildings, for the 
climate did not render a warm shelter for the 
animals in winter a necessity. But in every 
farm-yard there were many great stacks of hay, 
grain, corn, and wheat. In the pastures the 
grass was still abundant for the many horses, 
cattle, and sheep. Even the swine were permitted 
to gorge themselves upon the apples which had 
fallen from the trees. In many fields the laborers 
were loading great farm wagons with turnips, 
beets, and potatoes. It was literally a land of 
abundance. 

As he was approaching the town of Berryville, 
the capital of Clarke County, he noticed a lane 
leading westward, nearly at right angles to the 
turnpike, which apparently led to a farm of large 
size. He was within sight of Berryville, where 
he intended to pass his first night, and had 
abundant time. He dismounted, opened the 
swinging gate, and mounting again, allowed his 
horse to walk slowly along the lane. 

Passing between hedges of the Osage orange, 
not very well trimmed, where broad fields of 



16 AN UNKNOAVN HEROINE. 

wheat and corn had been recently harvested, on 
either hand, he soon came within view of the 
residence. It was upon a sHght elevation, sloping 
gently in every direction. The house was only 
one story high, but it made up in length and 
breadth what it lacked in height. On the south 
or front of the house was a velvety lawn, skirted 
on all sides with grand old oaks, chestnuts, and 
magnolias. On the north or in the rear were 
the slaves' quarters and the kitchen, separated 
from the house. A fine vegetable and fruit gar- 
den extended farther in the rear. 

The traveller halted under the shade of a 
grand old chestnut and permitted the beauty of 
the picture to grow upon his mind. It increased 
with his inspection. The residence and its sur- 
roundings seemed built for that old-time Virginia 
hospitality of which he had read, but which he 
had never experienced. He led his horse to a 
spring which ran across the lane or private road, 
and while he draiik, his rider began to inspect and 
admire his fine limbs and action. As he patted 
liim gently on the shoulders the animal responded 
by a gentle whinny, which was immediately an- 
swered from a paddock which had been partially 
hidden from him by the stacks of corn and grain 
and their jirotecting thatch of straw. Farther 
beyond he saw another and a larger field in which 
there was a herd of cattle. 

Himself a farmer's son, the horseman was 



THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA. 17 

skilled in breeds of cattle and horses. Leading 
his horse, he approached as nearly as possible the 
first field, in which he saw a picture which at the 
same time surprised and delighted him. There 
were ten or a dozen brood-mares and their foals. 
The action of these colts, so graceful, so quick, so 
powerful, showed to his practiced eye that while 
the mares were of the best native breeds, the 
colts had an infusion of that wonderful Percheron 
blood which France owed to the first Napoleon, 
as it did many other of its most profitable ad- 
vances in the arts, in manufactures, and other 
departments of human activity as well as in the 
breeding of horses and cattle. 

He had stood for some time witnessing with 
delight the gambols of the colts and wondering 
how he could get access to the field beyond, in 
which he had discovered some fine blooded Ayr- 
shire cows, when looking behind him he found 
himself very near the rear entrance to the house 
and grounds. He was immediately surrounded 
by a flock of woolly-headed, barefooted young 
darkies, all clamorously proposing to hold his 
horse, while two or three of the largest actually 
seized upon his bridle. They were not uncivil; 
they were decently but not over liberally clothed ; 
their white eye-balls shining in their black faces 
interested and their antics amused him. He 
was considering how he could make use of the 
entire flock without exciting the jealousy of any 
2 



18 AN UNKNOWN JIEROINE. 

individual of it, when a stately old colored person 
came out of the house with an innocent switch in 
his hand and proceeded to drive away the young- 
sters. 

" Whar you' manners, you sassy imps? Into de 
quarters, ebery one o' ye. If ye don't I'll thrash 
ye till the blood runs!" a threat which seemed to 
amuse the crowd. Then turning to the horse- 
man he said: "I hope you j^lees sense de young 
unsi Dey means well but dey's had no bringin' 
up. Plees walk into de house. I will care for 
your animal, sah. De colonel an missus are out 
in de pike on de saddle-horses. Dey w411 re- 
turn berry soon. As soon as I stable you' horse 
I will show you to your 'partment." 

The traveller was so impressed with the un- 
affected civility of this venerable person of seventy 
years, whose woolly head was perfectly white, 
that he did not interrupt him until he was about 
to take the bridle from his hand. Then he ex- 
plained that he was a stranger, a traveller 
through the country who had been attracted by 
the beauty of the place and wished to have a 
nearer view of the colts and their dams and the 
cattle. He was unacquainted with their owner 
and had no thought of becoming a burden upon 
his hospitality. If he might be permitted to 
enter the yard and have a closer view of the colts 
for a few minutes he would jDroceed on his 
journey. 



THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA. 19 

This arrangement was not at all satisfactory to 
the temporary representative of the house. He 
insisted that the horse must have his feed — his 
rider must be weary after his ride of twenty miles 
from " de Ferry. " Lunch was almost ready ; " de 
fambly" would feel hurt if he did not remain 
until they returned from their ride. He was 
sincerely grieved when the traveller assured him 
that his engagements would not permit of a 
longer delay. 

Fastening his bridle to a hitching-post, the old 
servant led the way to the fields. The closer his 
inspection the greater was the traveller's pleasure 
at the sight of the horses and cattle. The field 
inclosing the Ayrshires comprised the most ele- 
vated portion of the farm. Looking north- 
westward, he saw a smaller farm through which 
ran a stream of considerable size. At one point 
where there seemed to be a fall there was a 
large stone structure surrounded by shade-trees. 
Beyond it there was a broad, level farm, and be- 
yond this again another farm somewhat broken 
by hills and apparently pasturing a large number 
of horses. Upon further inquiry of the venerable 
servant, he learned that the mill farm, as it was 
called, was the property of a young bachelor 
named Van Metre, who resided in a part of the 
mill finished for a dwelling, to w^hich it was 
rumored the owner would soon bring its new 
mistress. The next place was Clifton, and still 



20 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

farther beyond was Claremont, which as he 
learned from the same mformant was a fine farm 
upon which its proprietor, Colonel Luke, raised 
some of the finest horses of Virginia. 

" And what is the name of this beautiful place 
where we are standing?" asked the young en- 
gineer. 

"This is Audley, sah. It is owned by my 
massa Colonel Lewis, who belongs to de Wash- 
ington family. He is a grandson of the beau- 
tiful Nelly Custis, the grandchile of Missus 
Washington. We has many tings in de house 
dat belonged to her." And pointing to a win- 
dow he added, " In that room she died. I wish 
you would stay and meet de colonel and Miss as 
Lewis. You would like de colonel and missus, 
sir. Everybody likes de colonel and Missus 
Lewis." 

"I have no doubt of that whatever," said the 
traveller, now rather mortified that he had at- 
tempted to seek information of the region from a 
servant instead of his master. Warmly express- 
ing his thanks for the particulars he had gained, 
he mounted his horse and rode away in the direc- 
tion of Berryville. 

His bridle-path across the country brought him 
to a spring, at the head of which he noticed a 
building of squared timbers about twelve feet in 
length, dove-tailed at the corners and presenting 
evidences of great age. The timbers vrere of 



THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA. 21 

chestnut oak, a most durable wood, but into 
them furrows an inch in depth had been worn by 
exposure to the winds and weather. Inside, a 
rude flight of stairs led to the upper room. A 
trap-door in the floor being raised was directly 
over the source of the spring. A noble oak 
shaded the building, and under it a large boulder 
furnished a convenient seat to the horseman after 
his horse had drunk his fill at the cool spring. 

While he was curious to know for what use 
such a building could have been constructed, a 
farmer apjDroacbed him, who announced himself 
as the owner of the premises. "It is the current 
belief in the neighborhood," he said, "that this 
hut was built by General Washington before his 
expeditions against the Indians and while he 
was engaged in surveying these lands for Lord 
Fairfax, their owner. It is well known that this 
end of the valley was surveyed by Washington 
and that he purchased large tracts of these lands 
from Lord Fairfax, and some of the best farms 
still remain in the possession of branches of his 
family. It is said that the upper room was the 
sleeping-room of his chain-men and that the 
lower room was occupied by himself. This was 
one of the farms in the Washington purchase," 
he continued, "and yonder," pointing to a knoll 
of moderate height, "is the highest j^oint in the 
valley between the foot-hills." 

The traveller ascended the elevation to which 



22 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

the farmer pointed and was charmed with the 
view in every direction. The boundaries of the 
valley, the gaps in the mountains, and the rivers 
have already been mentioned. As far as the eye 
could reach to the southward and limited only 
by the mountain ranges east and west, he saw 
farms similar to the one he had left, houses 
shaded by large trees and almost hidden by the 
huge stacks of hay and grain that surrounded 
them. In many of the fields white men and 
black were contentedly working side by side 
digging beets, turnips, and potatoes and loading 
them into huge farm wagons. The farms ap- 
peared to be well fenced. In some of the fields 
horses and in others cows and young cattle were 
grazing, and all this stock, so far as he could 
judge, was of the most desirable races and breeds. 
There was an air of abundance, of plenty, per- 
vading the region which led him to say to him- 
self, " Here is a section of our favored land to 
which want and hunger, war and its miseries 
can never come!" 

And yet he remembered with a shudder that 
only twelve months before this whole region had 
been thrown into the fiercest excitement by the 
invasion of John Brown and twenty-two other 
equally insane fanatics. True, the party had been 
defeated, some shot, others hmig. and others had 
run away, so that none remained to disturb the 
peace of the valley. He knew, too, that there 



THE VALLEY OP VIRGINIA. 23 

had recently been an election, that many intem- 
perate threats had been made of the dire results 
which would follow the election of one or another 
of the candidates. Surely, he thought, those 
threats will not be carried into execution. And 
if war should come it will be restricted to a few 
armed conflicts in the cities or along the Atlantic 
coast, and then better counsels will prevail and 
peace will return. It cannot be that these moun- 
tains will ever echo the roar of artillery, that 
these peaceful farms will become the theatres 
of bloody battles, or that this lovely landscape 
will ever be illuminated by the lurid torch of 
war ! 

Passing the night in Berryville, our traveller 
next day pursued his journey. The valley seemed 
to grow in beauty as it narrowed in extent. 
Leaving Masanutten like a grand sentinel on 
his right, he passed down the lovely vale of Luray, 
halting only long enough to inspect its mighty 
caverns with their magical effects in the lime- 
stone rocks ; past the Natural Bridge, Harrison- 
burg, Staunton, and on to the locality of his 
investigations in Rockbridge County. The result 
of his scientific work there was not encouraging 
to the promoters of the enterprise he was expected 
to forward. That enterprise received his honest, 
emphatic condemnation. But he reported to his 
employers that on his way to Rockbridge County 
he had traversed, as he believed, the most fertile 



24 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

as it was unquestionably the most exquisitely 
beautiful valley on the continent of America. 

His report to his employers made, he turned 
his face westward, supposing that he had seen 
this valley for the last time. But great events 
were even then maturing in the near future. 
Had they been disclosed to him, he would within 
a little more than two years have seen him- 
self returning hither as a general of brigade, 
now sending the enemy whirling ujd the valley, 
again himself sent whirling by the foe down 
the valley in his turn. He would have seen him- 
self leaving it for the last time as the commander 
of a division in an army, driving all the horses, 
cattle, sheep, and swine in their advance, their 
march illuminated by the conflagration of every 
outbuilding, of all the stacks of hay and grain, 
of everything capable of supporting human life. 
Instead of the jDasture of abundance which he 
saw on his first visit, there would have been a 
smoking, barren desert, until another season's 
crop incapable of supporting human life. 

The miseries of war force themselves upon a 
nation in defiance of all resistance. We shall see 
enough of them in this valle}" as the incidents of 
our story are developed without attempting to 
anticipate them. We will hereafter deal with 
them as they arise. 



CHAPTER III. 

A HOME IN VERMONT BEFORE THE WAR. 

Under the shadow of one of the loftiest peaks 
of the Green Mountains, well toward the north- 
ern boundary of Vermont, is situated the town- 
ship which I shall call Westfield. There are 
many such towns on the flanks of the Green 
Mountains. They are formed by c combination 
of .hill and valley, too much of the first and too 
little of the second. The rugged shoulders of the 
mountains extend at right angles to the principal 
range, and the rivers between them, which spread 
below into broad, rich intervals, are here only 
trout -brooks dashing along their rocky beds. 
There are here and there small areas capable of 
cultivation, but the greater part of the lands 
when cleared are fit only for pasturage. 

These are literally mountain towns. The 
primitive forest which originally covered the 
country, in the valleys where there was some 
depth of soil, comprised the soft and the sugar 
maple, the beech, and two or three birches of 
average size. These upon the hillsides were 
gradually replaced by the hemlock and spruce, 

25 



26 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

which became less in diameter with the ascent 
until on the mountain-tops they were dwarfed 
into impenetrable thickets. The first to attack 
these forests were the lumbermen, who felled and 
carried away the trees large enough for sawing, 
and then usually permitted the lands to revert to 
the State upon sales for unpaid taxes. Later 
these lands became of some value on account of 
the scarcity and increased price of charcoal, and 
still later they were farther increased by the de- 
mand for wood jDulp. In 1860 they were not 
worth more than three or four dollars per acre. 

In one of the poorest of these mountain towns 
lived Farmer Bedell, a lineal descendant of an 
ancestor who came over in the Mayfloiuer, and 
who, if he had not inherited the persistence, the 
industry, and the religion of his ancestor, could 
never have raised a family and maintained a 
decent respectability upon the barren soil which 
he had cleared from the forest and called his 
farm. I shall not attempt to explain why Bedell 
and others like him, when the rich prairies of the 
West and even of the Genesee Country were open 
to the emigrant, located here, where the soil was 
so unproductive and the climate so cold that their 
stock must be sheltered and fed for one-half the 
year ; fortunate if they could glean their living 
for the other half from the stony hillsides. Per- 
haps the correct explanation was given by one of 
them to a traveller who asked him what they 



A HOME IN VERMONT BEFORE THE WAR. 27 

raised in such a barren country. "We raise 
men," was his reply, and it was a true answer. 
There are hundreds of men who in enterprise, 
energy, and learning have honored the American 
name, distancing their competitors in all the 
departments of human industry and usefulness, 
who were born and reared in just such mountain 
towns. 

Bedell married, and sons and daughters were 
born to him. Our story concerns only Henry, 
a son who was born in 1834. He began to be 
useful to his father at the age of seven years, and 
his usefulness increased until he left the home- 
stead. During the three winter months he went 
to the district school. The nine remaining 
months of the year he labored for his father, who 
was the lawful owner of his time and services 
until he had completed his twenty-first year. At 
the age of eighteen, like many other Vermont 
boys, he purchased the remainder of his minority 
from his father, agreeing to give him three hun- 
dred dollars for it. He was six feet tall, strong 
and vigorous, for he had never abused his health. 
Except to watch by a sick friend he had never 
been awake at midnight in his life. He could 
now cut a broader swath in the hay-field, he 
could cradle more acres of wheat, he could cut 
more cord -wood in a day, than any other man in 
his town. His labor was in demand, for he was 
as faithful as he was strong. For the greater 



28 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

part of the year he earned and his employers paid 
him as much as a dohar a day for his work from 
sunrise to sunset. He never complained, never 
struck or even agitated for higher wages, but 
went straight on. At the age of twenty-one he 
had paid his father for his time and was the 
owner of one hundred acres of as good land as 
there was in the townshii^ of Westfield. 

Then the forest began to fall before the strokes 
of his powerful axe, the trees were cut into even 
lengths, made into log-heaps and burned. The 
ashes were collected and sold to the maker of 
potash. In the fall he sowed a small field of 
winter wheat, and the next spring he planted 
his first crop of corn, potatoes, turnips, etc. He 
could afford to hire a carpenter, and in his leisure 
hours between planting and hoeing he built a 
good, warm, substantial log-house. To this house 
one morning in June he brought his wife and her 
dowry. That of such a Vermont bride was 
neither costly nor comprehensive. It usually 
comprised a chest of drawers, a bedstead, a few 
chairs, a wooden clock, some cheap crockery, 
and other necessaries given by her father. The 
family jewels, consisting of a string of gold 
beads, and a Bible, were the gifts of the mother. 
Linen sheets and pillow-cases spun and woven 
with her own hands, blankets made with the 
assistance of her mother, her own wardrobe for a 
year purchased with her wages as the teacher of 



A HOME IN VERMONT BEFORE THE WAR. 29 

a district school, together with the contributions 
of her husband, made a very fair outfit for the 
young couple. She was a good, wholesome Ver- 
mont girl, wholesome in her heart and soul as 
well as in her person, fitted by training and an 
education almost self-won to be the wife of a true 
man and the mother of his children. 

As we shall see much of Bedell in the course of 
our story, we shall leave his character as it is 
developed to the judgment of the reader. But a 
word or two must be written about his personal 
appearance. In height and strength he was 
gigantic. He now measured six feet two inches 
in his stockings, and he was in every limb and 
muscle well proportioned. His face always wore 
a kind and genial expression, intensified possibly 
by his gentle blue eyes and light brown hair. 
His hands and feet were well formed, his move- 
ments so easy that he seemed to do everything 
without exertion. 

Of necessity the young couple prospered. They 
were both attentive and helpful to all their neigh- 
bors, especially to those who were in distress 
or want. We will not follow the details of their 
lives. They were not unusual or extraordinary. 
There have been hundreds of such lives in New 
England, where they are too common to attract 
notice. 

In that November when the mining engineer 
is travelling through the valley of Virginia, the 



30 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

Bedells of our story have been married six or 
seven years. Three children have been born to 
them, of whom both father and mother are just 
a little proud. The youngest of these is only five 
months old. They have adopted an orphan, son 
of a deceased Bedell, who has reached the age of 
ten years and is as dear to them as if he was 
their own son. He is a bright lad, competent to 
look after the farm while his adopted father is 
away. In these seven years the world has gone 
well with them. He has brought as much of 
his farm under cultivation as he thinks profit- 
able, and has added another to it which pro- 
duces an unusually large crop of hay. Both 
farms now constitute one, which is well stocked, 
with cattle, sheep, and horses. He has barn 
room for his entire crop of hay and grain and 
a w\arm shelter in the long, cold winter for 
every animal he owns. The log-house has dis- 
appeared. In its place stands a neat farm-house, 
one and a half stories high, with its "square 
room," bedrooms, and kitchen well furnished 
and provided with all approved modern conven- 
iences. He has no dairy, for his milk is sent to 
the creamery, that greatest boon to the New 
England wife. There is a bookcase well stocked 
— he takes an agricultural as well as the county 
paper. While he devotes himself to his farm, his 
wife, besides being a most excellent housekeeper, 
is a faithful mother to her children and is their 



A HOME IN VERMONT BEFORE THE WAR. 31 

daily teacher. Henry Bedell is not only a select- 
man, but he is the leading citizen and his farm is 
one of the best in the township. He would have 
represented his town in the State legislature this 
year if his neighbors could have had their choice. 
But he is a man of firmness who has a singular 
habit of considering the claims of other men be- 
fore his own. There was a neighbor who was 
entitled to the place, he said, and he could afford 
to wait. The neighbor is the representative, but 
he is also a friend who would go through fire to 
serve Bedell. And so it happens that husband 
and household are a credit to the State and their 
town. The husband is an industrious, charitable, 
benevolent citizen. His wife is a pattern for 
other wives, affectionate and useful. There are 
none better in the Rei^ublic than these farmers of 
the mountain towns of A'ermont, of whom it is 
not claimed that the Bedells are more than aver- 
age examples. 



CHAPTER TV. 

THE TRUMPET-CALL OF AVAR IN THE GREEN 
MOUNTAINS. 

The red tongue of war licked the walls of 
Sumter and his brazen throat belched out a roar 
which rolled up every New England valley, out 
over every Western prairie. There followed it 
the call for men. Henry E. Bedell scarcely 
noted the sound of the guns, but the call for men 
touched every nerve in his giant frame. It was 
in the spring-time, when he was ploughing and 
sowing and planting. While he reflected upon 
his duty, the call was filled by jDrompter men and 
the demand had passed him by. Then there 
came disaster and defeat — another call, sharper, 
more peremptory, not to be disregarded by one 
who loved his country. Once more the A'ermont 
farmer looked u]3on his wife and home, and while 
he hesitated other and apparently more patriotic 
men had responded, and again he felt that he 
had failed of his duty. "But in the sultry 
summer-time, as war's red records show," of 
1S62, came that memorable appeal to which no 
loyal ear was deaf, no loyal heart failed to re- 

33* 



CALL OF WAR IN THE GREEN MOUNTAINS. 33 

spend, it was the call for "three hundred thou- 
sand more. " " From Mississippi's winding stream 
to far New England's shore," no ear was quicker 
to hear, no heart more prompt to answer than 
the ear and heart of the Westfield farmer. It 
came to him in his county paper early one morn- 
ing. Instantly he decided that this call was for 
him and he would answer it, not hy any cheap 
substitute, hut in person. Then his mind was at 
rest. He went out into the morning air. Never 
did his eye rest more longingly upon his farm, 
his animals, his home. He entered his dwelling. 
His children clamorously demanded their daily 
privilege of climbing up^ii his shoulders. They 
performed the feat and proclaimed their achieve- 
ment with shouts of joy and kisses of love. His 
wife saw upon his face a look which she had never 
witnessed before. She followed him into another 
apartment. Without a word he drew her to him 
with one arm, holding in his other hand the open 
paper. With a woman's intuition she understood 
it all. "I cannot hold you back, Henry ! I would 
not if I could," she said. "The country needs 
you and you must go. But, O God, preserve my 
husband!" she cried, struggling to keep down the 
wave of fear which threatened to overwhelm her 
when she most wished for strength. 

"Heaven bless you, my brave wife," he said, 
controlling his own emotion with a mighty effort. 
" I knew you would not fail me in this crisis. 
3 



34 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE 

And now, dear, let us sit down and talk it all over 
calmly. I have been expecting this call, and the 
devil has been very busy in devising ways for me 
to avoid it. He suggests that I can hire a sub- { 
stitute who has no wife and children to suffer if 
he loses his life. It is my first duty, he urges, 1 
to stay at home and take care of my family. I){ 
need not repeat his arguments or my replies. '-, 
The country is in danger. It wants strong, / 
earnest, healthy men, and not cheap substitutes] 
who will desert or run away at the first opportu- ) 
nity. I am strong and healthy, and at least I ( 
ought to be big enough to be of some use to my 1 
country," he continued, casting a glance over 
his gigantic frame and forcing himself to smile. 
" These misguided men at the South must be de- 
feated if they persist in their efforts to break up 
the Government, and I must help to do it. I 
should despise myself, earn the contempt of all 
honest men, and dishonor my native State if I 
did not obey this call !" 

"You are right, Henry," she replied. "If I 
were a man I should feel as you do, and I almost 
wish I were one, so that I might go with yonj\ 
and fight by your side. But my place is here, to 
care for our children and to pray for you. God 
will watch over us and reunite us. I feel it, and 
I will not make the parting harder by a single 
tear." 

Afraid to trust herself to say more, the brave 



CALL OF WAR IN THE GREEN MOUNTAINS. 35 

wife hurried from the room and threw herself 
heart and soul into the preparations for her hus- 
band's departure. Whatever may have been 
her secret anguish, not a trace of it appeared up- 
on her calm, serene brow when her dear ones were 
by. An atmosphere of somewhat forced cheer- 
fulness pervaded the household, even the little 
ones taking an active part in the work of prepa- 
ration. Imitating their mother's example, they 
endeavored to appear happy and unconcerned as 
they went about the work of cleaning, brushing, 
and polishing which fell to their share. But, 
young as they were, they felt the sad underc\ir- 
rent beneath the assumed cheerfulness about 
them, and often the merry laugh would cease 
and a silent tear fall at the thought that "father 
was going to the war." 

On the 4th day of August, 1862, Bedell with 
dry eyes and a strong heart took leave of his 
family and his Westfield home, and enlisted 
in Company D, Eleventh Vermont Volunteers. 
He was such a magnificent specimen of man- 
hood that on the day of his enlistment his 
captain insisted upon promoting him, and he 
was borne on the roster as Corporal Bedell. On 
the first day of September his regiment was 
mustered into the service of the United States. 
James M. Warner, a lieutenant in the regular 
army and an educated soldier, was its colonel. 
The regiment was ordex'ed first to Washington, 



36 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE, 

where it became a regiment of heavy artillery, 
and being separated into batteries of one hundred 
and fifty men was distributed into the forts which 
protected the capital. There it served for eighteen 
long months and until April, ISIU. 

This may have been a useful service, but it 
was not liked by officers or men. They seemed 
to be wasting time in idleness which should have 
been in some way made profitable to the cause. 

But Corporal Bedell was a true soldier, content 
to obey his superior officers and to perform the 
duty which they assigned to him. He had one 
privilege of which he availed himself almost 
daily. Everything known to the corporal was 
promptly communicated to his wife and neigh- 
bors in their Vermont homes. 

Then on the 11th of August, all unconscious 
that he had done anything but his daily duty, he 
was informed that he had been again promoted 
and that he was now Sergeant Bedell. His sur- 
prise was greater when, on the 2Sth of Decem- 
ber, 1803, while the regiment was still in the de- 
fences of Washington, he was deemed worthy of 
a commission. On the 12th of January, 1861, 
he received his commission as lieutenant. About 
the same time Aldace Walker, who had joined the 
regiment as a lieutenant, was made its lieutenant 
colonel. This story cannot turn aside to do jus 
tice to Colonel Walker. I may, however, take 
this occasion to say that the subsequent very 



CALL OF WAR IN THE GREEN MOUNTAINS. 37 

lively and magnificent fighting of the regiment 
was under Colonel Walker's command, that he 
was deservedly breveted as colonel for his per- 
sonal bravery, and that he is now the chairman 
of the Interstate Railway Association of the 
United States. 

The record of the regiment covers gallant 
service at Spottsylvania, May 15th to 18th; Cold 
Harbor, June 1st to 12th; Petersburg, June 
18th; Weldon Eailroad, June2od; Fort Stevens, 
in front of Washington, July 12th, 1 864. Then it 
went into the Shenandoah Valley and fought in 
all the battles there under Sheridan. Its history 
has been written by Colonel Walker, and we 
shall follow it so far as it is connected with the 
heroine of our story and Lieutenant Bedell. 



CHAPTER V. 

THE CALL TO ARMS IN THE VALLEY. 

No man of Northern birth or sympathies should 
undertake to describe from a Southern stand- 
point the war in the valley of Virginia. It 
may be permitted to the writer to say that a 
strong sentiment in favor of the Union was sup- 
posed to exist in the State and was loyally 
entertained by a large majority of the people 
of the valley, including all citizens of the better 
class. But the guns of Sumter struck the note 
of separation. When General Lee resigned from 
the army of the United States and consented to 
take command of the Confederate army of Vir- 
ginia, the Union sentiment immediately and com- 
pletely disappeared. Nowhere did the Confederate 
call for recruits meet with a more general and 
cordial response than in the Shenandoah Valley. 
One of the earliest to volunteer had been J. L. E. 
Van Metre, the owner of the estate of which we 
have already attempted a slight description. 

He had enlisted in the Confederate army in the 
summer of 1861, when there was supposed to be 
little danger that the wave of war would reach 

38 



THE CALL TO ARMS IN THE VALLEY. 3!) 

the valley. His horses, cattle, and other animals 
had been purchased by the Confederate Govern- 
ment and paid for in money and bonds. There 
was supposed to be little left worth the trouble 
of capture. The homestead was therefore left in 
charge of Peter Dennis, a faithful colored slave, 
with Mrs. Betty Van Metre and her young niece 
as its tenants. 

But the valley of Virginia proved to be one of 
the great highways of civil war. From its pro- 
ductive capacity the Confederacy was to derive a 
large proportion of its provisions. Its people 
could temporarily leave the service in the spring, 
raise and harvest a crop, and return to active 
service in the autumn. Therefore the tidal wave 
of war annually and sometimes quarterly rolled 
up and down the valley, every time engulfing 
the Van Metre homestead, until nearly every 
useful animal, every wheeled vehicle, all the hay, 
straw, in short, almost everything portable had 
been swept away. Even the able-bodied slaves 
had been sent as laborers to the Confederate front. 
The mill and outbuildings had so far escaped de- 
struction or much injury. As "single misfor- 
tunes do not come alone," in the summer of 1864 
Van Metre was captured and became a prisoner 
to the Union forces. 

We will not undertake to follow the Northern 
army, which under the command of Sheridan 
"went into" the valley early in August, 1864. 



40 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

On the 10th of that month his whole command 
moved out of Harper's Ferry and went into camp 
at CHfton, a large plantation near Berryville. 
Here and hereabout the Vermont brigade re- 
mained for several days. It came to the knowl- 
edge of some of the officers of that brigade that 
in the stone mill and dwelling already mentioned, 
Mrs. Van Metre, the wife of the owner, with her 
young niece and an old colored servant, was living 
alone and unprotected. Over this homestead they 
stationed and maintained a guard which secured 
it against further intrusion. To show her grati- 
tude for such protection, Mrs. Van Metre sug- 
gested that while she had no provisions of her 
own, she might prepare their army rations in a 
manner which would remind them of the cooking 
of their wives and daughters at home. The offi- 
cers accordingly sent her their beef, bacon, and 
hard -tack, and adding a few vegetables from her 
own garden she prepared for them several dinners. 
These dinners so spread her rejjutation as a cook 
that until the brigade moved away her table 
was filled daily with as many guests as she 
could accommodate. The officers were all gen- 
tlemen, who treated her with the respect they 
would have demanded for their mothers or their 
wives, and the dinners became memorable. 
When they went to the field, many of them to 
their deaths, there was not one who did not 
carry with him a profound respect for Mistress 



THE CALL TO ARMS IN THE VALLEY. 41 

Betty Van Metre. How far she remembered 
them we shall learn hereafter. 

The time of his or her introduction into a story 
is usually the occasion for the description of the 
principal character. In the course of this nar- 
rative the reader will form a very intimate ac- 
quaintance with Mrs. Betty Van Metre. I prefer 
to leave him to form his own opinion of her with- 
out any influence of mine. I shall give a very 
brief sketch of her origin and her life up to her 
nineteenth year, when she becomes more actively 
connected with this history. Beyond that I shall 
leave her to be known and judged by her own 
conduct— her own construction of the duty of a 
true woman. 



CHAPTER VI. 

HOW A BRAVE MAN MET THE HEAVY STROKE OF 
MERCILESS WAR. 

Our story is now touched by the bloody hand 
of active War. The Vermont brigade, to which 
Bedell's regiment was attached, belonged to the 
division then commanded by that brave and popu- 
lar officer General Getty. The division was in 
camp on the farm called Claremont, about three 
miles north from Berryville and about two miles 
west of the turnpike from Harper's Ferry through 
Charlestown and thence up the valley. Win- 
chester, the largest city in the lower valley, lies 
ten and a half miles due west from Berryville 
on another turnpike. About half-way from 
Berryville to Winchester, the road by a ford 
crosses the Opequan (pronounced Opeccan) Creek, 
which runs northerly into the Potomac at 
Williamsport. The banks of this creek are 
high and bold, and in high water the ford is 
frequently impassable. 

On the morning of Sej^tember loth, 1864, the 
division of General Getty moved out toward the 
Opequan to ascertain the position of the army of 

42 



A BRAVE MAN IN THE WAR. 43 

General Early, then known to be on the west 
bank of that river. The Vermont brigade had 
the advance, the third and fourth regiments being 
deployed as skirmishers. There were no fences, 
and the force moved directly across the country 
about five miles to the creek. Sheridan and 
Wright accompanied the column. 

The skirmishers reached and forded the creek, 
meeting the Confederate pickets a short distance 
up and beyond the west bank. Captain Cowan's 
battery went into position on the east side of the 
creek and opened fire, hoping thus to discover the 
enemy's camps in that vicinity and their numer- 
ical strength. This battery was in plain view 
from the opposite side. There was an occasional 
shot from the rifles of the skirmishers in advance 
of Cowan's battery on the west bank of the 
creek, and the rest of the division was massed 
in a wood a quarter of a mile behind the battery. 
This wood was free from underbrush ; it afforded 
an excellent shade; the men were scattered in 
groups among the stacked rifles, conversing or 
otherwise amusing themselves. 

It is now known from Major More, the officer 
upon the staff of General Early who carried the 
order, that the fire from Cowan's battery having 
become annoying, General Early ordered up a 
heavier battery on the west side of the creek, to 
silence Cowan's guns or compel him to retire. 
The first shells from the Confederate guns were 



44 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

fired at too high an elevation, passed over the 
guns at which they were aimed, and exploded 
among the tree -tops, doing no further injury. 
But this error was soon corrected, and the shells 
hegan to plough through and explode among the 
ranks of the division concealed in the timber. 
Several were wounded ; the lines were formed 
for removal to some safer position. But as the 
enemy's missiles began to fall short of the Union- 
ists, they became satisfied that their exact j^osi- 
tion was unknown to the enemy, and in a few 
minutes the firing ceased and danger was over. 

Bedell always set a good examjDle before his 
men when under fire. As an officer he deemed 
it his duty to take good care of his men and not 
to attempt concealment of his own person. His 
great height, his muscular activity, and splendid 
physique made him an attractive target, of which 
the enemy did not fail to avail themselves. He 
was bravely holding his men in line, when the 
guns in the Confederate battery were concen- 
trated upon him ; one shell exploded, tearing his 
right hand, leaving three fingers each hanging 
by its tendons, and he fell. A second shell had 
crashed through his left thigh, leaving a portion 
of the muscle on either side, and a horrible mass 
of crushed bones, mangled flesh, and gushing 
arteries in its pathway. 

As he fell and saw the bright red blood spurt- 
ing from the severed arteries, he made a brave 



A BRAVE MAN IN THE WAR. 45 

attempt to compress his thigh with his uninjured 
and his mangled hand, for he knew that a brief 
delay involved his death. It was ineffectual, for 
there was but little strength in that fragment of 
a hand. "Cord it, boys!" he exclaimed as he lay 
upon the ground. "Don't let me bleed to death! 
Cord it! with a handkerchief or anything, quick! 
A ramrod and a handkerchief will do it!" 

Willing hands tied the handkerchief, but they 
were nervous and the rude substitute gave way 
under the too sudden twist, and again the scar- 
let torrent burst out, impelled by the power- 
ful pulsations of his vigorous heart. "Try it 
once more, boys!" he exclaimed. "Try a bay- 
onet, the next time — it's my only chance!" A 
young officer tore his sash from his own shoulders, 
passed it twice around the limb, tied it, another 
inserted a bayonet, and with a single powerful 
twist the success of the improvised torniquet was 
complete — the bleeding was arrested and for the 
moment his life was saved. 

He was more than five miles from the camp to 
which the division was about to return. They 
bore him on a stretcher to a temporary field hos- 
pital, where the surgeons began to debate whether 
there was anything to be gained by an amputa- 
tion. It was a most difficult operation at the 
best. Weakened by his other v/ounds, they 
feared he might die under the surgeon's knife. 

The brave man promptly settled the question. 



46 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE, 

"Is it not certain that this wound will be fatal if 
the leg is not amputated?" he asked. The] 
agreed it was. "Then lose not a moment's 
time," he said. "There is a chance of recovery 
if the leg is amputated — there is none if it is 
not. In such a case I take the chance!" 

They laid him upon the table and the skilled 
hands of the surgeons of the Vermont brigade 
performed the amputation. Everything was 
done for him that could be suggested by science 
and skill, and the sufferer was made as comforta- 
ble as the rude conditions of war permitted. 
"Still," said the account of Colonel Walker, 
" there was very little hope. Though his native 
vigor was in his favor, his very size and the 
muscular strength upon which he had prided 
himself were against him, for it was computed 
that over sixty -four square inches of flesh were 
severed and laid bare by the surgeon's knife. 
And it was also found that his right hand had 
been terribly injured, the bones of three fingers 
and of the middle hand having been crushed and 
comminuted. The operation already performed 
had been so severe that it was thought best not 
to attempt the treatment of the hand until it was 
seen whether or not he would rally from the 
shock of the wounds and the amputation." 

About dusk the army returned to their camp 
at Claremont. That journey was a terrible ordeal 
to the wounded man. It would have been severe 



A BRAVE MAN IN THE WAR. 47 

enough if his ambulance had moved over an 
ordinary turnpike road for that distance imme- 
diately after he had undergone such a fearful 
trial. But there were no fences left and few 
cross-roads. The army moved as the crow flies, 
straight across the country, over stone walls 
half torn down, across ditches half filled with 
broken timbers. Thus jolted and shaken, an 
ordinary life would have inevitably been de- 
stroyed. But Bedell's was not an ordinary life. 
He determined to live if he could. Sustained by 
stimulants and his indomitable courage, at last 
in the darkness he reached the camp of the divi- 
sion alive. 

A short distance eastward from the camp, on 
another farm, was a house which had been 
deserted by the owner and his family. The 
basement was occupied by an old man and his 
wife, both apparently destitute of human hearts 
and sympathies. Tempted by the promise of re- 
wards, they consented that Bedell should be 
placed in one of the unoccupied rooms of the 
second story of the house, and then, having made 
him as comfortable as they could, his companions 
left him for the night, scarcely expecting that the 
morning sun would see him alive. 

The next morning the surgeon of his regiment 
found him not only alive, but stronger than he 
was the evening before. After an examination 
and the statement that he was delighted to see 



48 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

him feeling better, he was about to leave, when 
Bedell said to him : 

"Surgeon, you doctors think I have got my 
fatal wound — that I cannot live. You propose 
to make my short journey to the grave as easy 
as possible. I know perfectly well that the 
chances are against me. But I have got a wife 
and children up in Vermont who w^ant me. I 
want to live on my own account — much more 
on theirs. I am going to make the hardest fight 
for life of which I am capable. I want you to 
help me. I want you to bring the surgeons of 
the Fourth and Fifth Vermont right here as soon 
as you can. I want to talk the matter over and 
see what can be done to save me." 

"I will do it. God knows if you die it shall 
not be for want of anything that I can do for 
you," said the surgeon. 

By nine o'clock the surgeon of his own regiment 
and three others were in consultation over him. 
He insisted that they should discuss the case in 
his presence. The surgeon of his own regiment, 
the youngest of the four, alone expressed any 
hope. The three others said that such an am- 
putation, almost at the very hip, was fatal in the 
majority of cases without other complications. 
In this case it was complicated with the wounded 
hand and the want of hospital accommodations; 
and there were other reasons why they considered 
his case hopeless. 



A BRAVE MAN IN THE WAR. 49 

The younger man said but little. Bed ell waited 
until none of the surgeons had anything to add. 
Then, as coolly as if he were speaking of another, 
he said : 

"Gentlemen, my life is not my own property. 
For another year it belongs to the United States. 
After that my wife and children own it. I shall 
save it if I can. I shall not throw away one 
chance to save it. I decide to place myself in 
the hands of the surgeon of my own regiment. 
I know he will do all he can for me. I want one 
of you to write for me a letter to my wife. Then 
I will put myself under his direction." 

" I will write for you — I will do anything that 
man can do for you," said the elder of the sur- 
geons, "for you deserve to live." He drew a 
table to the side of the wounded man and wrote 
to his wife from his dictation what might prove 
to be his last letter. It told her the simple truth. 
He had been desperately wounded — his right leg 
had been amputated — he was about to undergo 
another operation, which might terminate his life. 
Still he had some hope. He gave her plain di- 
rections about closing his estate and the educa- 
tion of the children. Its closing words were so 
touching that he alone of those present was able 
to control his emotions. There ran through it a 
single ray of hope, so faint at times that it was 
scarcely visible. It was just possible that he 
might survive the operation about to be per- 
4 



50 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

formed. It .was a model letter of a fearless sol- 
dier and a loving husband writing to his wife 
for the last time. With his left hand, assisted 
by the surgeon, he wrote what bore some resem- 
blance to his name, saw the letter sealed and 
directed. The older surgeon promised to mail it, 
and then, turning to the surgeon of the Eleventh 
Vermont, Bedell said, "Doctor, I am ready." 

The young surgeon did not flinch. They 
brought in a table and laid the wounded man 
upon it. Bedell watched the jDreparations with 
the coolness of a disinterested spectator. But 
when they offered him the anaesthetic, he de- 
clined to take it. He preferred to retain his con- 
sciousness. 

" The amputation and dressing of your wounded 
hand and the dressing of your amputated thigh 
will be tedious and exhausting," said the sur- 
geon. " We must husband every ounce of your 
strength. You will require it all, and whether 
it will prove sufficient God only knows." 

To this argument Bedell promptly yielded. 
The blessed boon, which has spared humanity 
such a vast amount of pain, was administered 
and the wounded man became unconscious. 

The writer is not a surgeon, and if he were he 
does not know that the description of the long 
and careful process of amputating .the fingers, 
repairing the stump of the hand, and dressing the 
thigh would be interesting to his readers. The 



A BRAVE MAN IN THE WAR, 51 

hand proved to have been reduced to a shapeless 
mass of fractured bone, crushed muscle, veins 
and arteries, and severed nerves. The surgeon 
was skilful and worked with rapidity. But it 
was a full hour after the patient was laid upon 
the table before the operation was completed. 

A narrow bed filled with straw and laid upon 
the floor, in a room from which everything even 
to the window-shades had been removed, was the 
only couch they could procure for the wounded 
man. His covering was an army blanket. To 
this bed they returned him in the bloody clothing 
worn when he fell. Had Bedell been in. his 
mountain home, or in a hospital where he could 
have had proper care and a comfortable bed, his 
subsequent experience showed that he would have 
had an uninterrupted j^rogress toward recovery. 
Even here the surgeon hoped that he might 
secure the constant attendance of a nurse, the 
dressing of his wounds as often as was necessary, 
and the regular administration of stimulants and 
of strengthening food. After a few days' rest he 
could be removed to Harper's Ferry, where he 
could be supplied with every necessity. He then 
explained to Bedell the treatment he intended 
should be pursued, provided him with ref resiling 
food, placed him in charge of a soldier nurse, 
and left him for the night. 



CHAPTEK VII. 

DESERTED, 

When at sunrise the next morning the surgeon 
made an early call, he was delighted to find his 
patient's condition greatly improved. He had 
had a fair night's rest. His appetite was good 
and he was free from pain. He complimented 
Bedell upon his vigorous constitution, which with 
proper assistance he believed would carry him 
through to perfect recovery. He informed him 
that he had made a requisition, upon the agency 
of the Sanitary Commission at Harper's Ferry for 
a cot bedstead and other conveniences, which 
would be received in the course of three or four 
days. Until then the same course of treatment 
already adopted was to be pursued. 

Both the surgeon and Bedell were conscious 
that his struggle for life had only just begun. 
In cases of severe wounds like his, nature merci- 
fully provides a torpidity of the nerves which 
renders them for a short time almost insensible 
to pain. But when the parts become inflamed 
there is an increased sensitiveness and the pain 
is sometimes almost intolerable. This inflamma- 

53 



DESERTED, 53 

tion in Bedell's case was certain to occur, though 
it was hoped to keep it under control by careful 
treatment and constant attention. 

For two or three days the case progressed as 
well as the surgeon expected. There was con- 
siderable inflammation, but the patient remained 
perfectly quiet, and by constant bathing and other 
applications the pain was kept under control. 
He was growing stronger and progressing steadily 
toward recovery. 

But there were several incidents of Bedell's sit- 
uation which were very unsatisfactory. The No- 
vember storms were commencing; the room he 
occupied was open in many places to the weather 
and there was no way of heating it. The old 
couple named Asbury, who were probably tres- 
passers in the basement, but who claimed to have 
been left in possession by the owner, proved to 
be human only in form and apparently destitute 
of all human sympathy. They promised when 
paid in advance to attend upon Bedell's wants 
and to prepare his food, but as soon as the sur- 
geon's nurse withdrew they appropriated his sup- 
plies and then gave him no farther attention. 
The house was far enough away from the camp 
at Claremont to make it an attraction to the 
guerillas then roving over the country, and no 
ordinary guard was an adequate security against 
them. 

Finding that the Asburys were more likely to 



54 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

betray Bedell to some of their friends who were 
marauding the country than they were to do 
anything to assist him, the surgeon determined 
to rely upon a guard from the camp to nurse and 
protect his patient. But it was not many days 
before even this precarious protection had to be 
withdrawn. An advance movement of the Union 
army was about to take place, and by way of 
preparation for it, peremptory orders were issued 
that all the sick and wounded should be at once 
removed to the hospital at Harper's Ferry, more 
than twenty miles away. 

The heart of the young surgeon sank at the 
prospect for poor Bedell. He did not believe 
that he could endure the pain of transportation 
even for a mile, and to leave him was to abandon 
him to certain death. Mosby, a daring partisan 
leader, was always close upon the rear of a re- 
treating Federal army, ready to dash upon it at 
the first opening. He had captured officers in 
towns when they were surrounded by their own 
men. Under the claim that Custer had executed 
some of his men on the ground that they were 
not regularly enlisted in the Confederate army, 
Mosby by way of retaliation had just hung five 
Union soldiers on the same tree. A Federal 
officer captured by Mosby, well or wounded, 
would probably have short shrift. Nor were 
Mosby's men the worst of the marauders. The 
caves in the mountains were literally swarming 



DESERTED. 55 

with the most abandoned species of wretches ever 
created in the human form. They comprised all 
the criminals of the region, with recruits of men 
who had fled from the draft, bounty-jumpers, 
deserters, and vagabonds of all kinds. Some 
were counterfeiters, some illicit distillers — all 
thieves and robbers and, upon any prospect of 
gain, murderers. They were impartial — they 
robbed both sides ; no one who had anything to 
lose was safe from their bloody knives. There 
were other wretches in the towns who gave them 
notice of any possible victim and with whom they 
divided their spoils. They promptly aj^peared on 
every battle-field and murdered the wounded; it 
was unsafe to travel any road after nightfall, 
for to encounter them was death. Compared 
with the operations of these outlaws, bushwhack- 
ing was Christian warfare. 

It would be more merciful to shoot the wounded 
officer upon his pallet of straw than to leave him 
to the mercy of these miscreants. Every effort 
for his safe removal must be exhausted before 
that alternative could be considered. 

These sudden and unexpected movements are 
among the most cruel incidents of war. They 
always cost many lives. The wounded are taken 
from comfortable beds w^hen their cases are fa- 
vorably progressing, crowded into army wagons 
and ambulances and hurried away over the rough 
and broken roads, too many of them to their 



56 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

deaths. On this occasion the procession that 
moved northward was not large, for as yet there 
had been no great battle since this army entered 
the valley. 

An earnest and careful attempt was made to 
remove Bedell. The ambulance was cushioned, 
he was carried very gently and laid on a bed on 
the floor of the vehicle. But now all his wounds 
had become inflamed and every injured nerve 
and severed muscle was in angry rebellion. The 
ambulance moved very slowly, but the shaking 
and jolting as the wheels fell into well-worn ruts 
or over obstructions were unavoidable. For a 
time he bore the pain without a murmur. He 
uttered no complaint — not a groan escaped him. 
But the tax was more than he could bear. There 
was a shiver — his face turned an ashen color, 
and he fainted. So far as his own suffering was 
concerned he was dead. 

The ambulance was moved out of the proces- 
sion into a field; the officers of his regiment and 
his friends gathered about him. What was to 
be done? To persist in the attempt to remove 
him would be fatal. He would die before he 
had made one mile of the twenty. To leave him 
would expose him to a death almost equally cer- 
tain. The horizon of his fate seemed closing in 
on every side. 

During the conference Bedell recovered his 
consciousness. Again his clear judgment con- 



DESERTED. 57 

sidered the situation and decided what should be 
done. He could not be removed, for he had not 
the strength to survive the journey. One man 
like himself must not obstruct the movement of 
an army. There was only one thing to be done. 
They must return him to his pallet of straw, 
arrange whatever they could for his protection, 
and leave him to take his chance of life, however 
small it might seem to be. 

They replaced him upon his straw mattrass, 
nearer to death than he had been at any time 
before. But he had brother -officers who would 
not abandon him. His desertion might be ex- 
cused as a cruel necessity, they said, but it would 
be none the less the act of cowards. As soon 
as our army retired the scavengers of the camp 
and field would spread over the country. They 
took no prisoners, left no living witnesses of their 
atrocities. If Bedell was left alone they would 
murder him. But they would not attack two or 
three determined men. 

Bedell calmly told them that after that day's 
experience he had little hope of recovery; that 
obviously there was only one possible course, they 
must leave him ; a soldier might remain with him 
if they thought best ; they could give him some 
supplies, and that was all they could do. When 
they got to Harper's Ferry, if he lived, they could 
consult about his further removal. 

Bedell so calmly took upon himself as his obvi- 



58 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

ous duty as a soldier all the risks of the situation 
that his brother-officers yielded, although one of 
them said that in so doing he felt as if he deserved 
to be kicked out of camp by a mule. They selected 
as his nurse a man not in uniform, arranged a box 
of crackers so that it raised the head of his bed, 
and placed within his reach vessels of water and 
cooked food enough to sustain life for several days. 
The surgeon determined to make one more effort 
to secure the services of the Asburys. He knew 
they were faithless, but he hoped to secure their 
services by partial payment and the promise of 
future rewards. They promised; they accepted 
his money ; they agreed to visit Bedell hourly — to 
prepare his food and to do everything he required. 

Having made these arrangements, the best 
that the circumstances admitted, the surgeon 
and his brother-officers bade the wounded man 
farewell and took their unwilling leave. A 
short distance from the house they passed the 
small dwelling of a colored man who stood at his 
open door. "What is your name, uncle?" asked 
the surgeon. 

"My name is Dick Runner, suh," he civilly 
answered. 

"What is your work, and is this your house?" 
pursued the inquirer. 

"I work for Missus Van Metre in the mill. 
Me and Ginny, my wife, have lived here all our 
lives, suh." 



DESERTED. 59 

"Uncle," said the surgeon, holding up two 
bright, new greenbacks, "these are for you. 
In that room" (pointing to one he had just left) 
"is a wounded Union officer. I want you to 
go and see him every morning and see that he 
wants for nothing. Will you do so?" 

" I will see de Union officer ebery day, suh, but 
I cannot take pay for it. I know what for he 
come here. He is one of Lincoln's men. Me an' 
Ginny will do all we can for him, but not for 
money — no, not for money." 

" Then take the money and buy medicines for 
him, " said the surgeon. " We have to leave him 
to go with the army. The Asburys have prom- 
ised to care for him, but we do not like to trust 
them. We think if you promised you would 
keep your word." 

" Dem Asburys is no good, suh. Dey're squat- 
ters. Dey've got no business in dat house. You 
can't trust 'em. But me an' Ginny will do what 
we can for de wounded officer. But we don' 
want no pay. What for you didn't see Missus 
Van Metre'? She's a woman an' a lady, is Mis- 
sus Van Metre. She will help anybody dat's 
in trouble." 

"We cannot wait now to see anybody. Our 
regiment is already miles away, uncle!" said the 
surgeon, much impressed by the simple honesty 
of the colored man. " We wish you would take 
some money, and look after our brother-officer. 



60 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

You would relieve our minds if you would, for 
it cuts us to the heart to leave him, and we fear 
he is near his end." 

But Uncle Dick was obstinate. He would do 
all he could for the wounded man, but he would 
not take money. As the surgeon shook his honest 
hand and with the other grasped that of Ginny, 
he left in hers a roll of paper covering a small 
sum in greenbacks, and before she could recover 
from her surprise enough to protest, he had hur- 
ried away. 

With the retirement of the army began a 
time of physical and mental anxiety and distress 
for Bedell which no pen can adequately describe. 
The army retired to Harj)er's Ferry. When it 
again advanced, Martinsburg, farther west, be- 
came its base of supplies, and the region around 
Berryville, instead of being traversed every few 
days by army trains, was not again visited for 
many weeks by Union troops. This part of Clarke 
County became the hunting-ground for guerillas, 
camp-followers, tramps, and deserters. Bush- 
whacking, robbing, and murder were too common 
to attract attention. The tramps expected no 
quarter and gave none. Two or three times 
Custer's cavalry swept over the county, and left 
the murderers they captured hanging from the 
trees along the turnpike. Every Union soldier 
who fell into the hands of the roving murder- 
ers was hung or shot as soon as he had been 



DESERTED. 61 

robbed. For the first few days the house where 
Bedell lay escaped their visitations. It was some 
distance away from the turnpike and was sup- 
posed to have been deserted. Several of these 
parties were turned away by the apparent stu- 
pidity of Uncle Dick Runner, who always con- 
trived to intercept and show them that there was 
no spoil here, but that there were fresh fields and 
pastures new in some other direction. 

When the officers of Bedell's regiment parted 
from him they had almost no hope that he would 
survive. The strain of his attempted removal 
had been very injurious. They were not much 
surprised, therefore, when the nurse left with him, 
two or three days afterward, came into the camp 
at Harper's Ferry and announced that Bedell had 
died and he had seen him buried that morning! 

This is what had in fact taken place: The 
nurse had been very brave before the army left. 
Immediately after its departure he began to show 
his cowardice. He had heard that an attack was 
to be made that night — one man could make no 
defence against guerillas ! In short, his cowardly 
fear so wrought upon Bedell in his nervous con- 
dition that he begged the fellow to clear out and 
leave him. His absence he might survive — his 
presence he could not endure. The coward left 
immediately, and to excuse his own conduct circu- 
lated the report that Bedell was dead. 

The wounded man's next ill- fortune was with 



62 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

the Asburys, who hvecl in the basement and 
clahned to be the landlords of the deserted house. 
He knew that they had been paid for taking care 
of him and had promised his friends to attend to 
his wants. When, therefore, the male Asbury 
came for his supplies, promising to cook him a 
meal, he did not ol^ject to their being taken away, 
leaving only the box of crackers, his substitute 
for a pillow, which did not attract Mr. Asbury 's 
notice. The patient's provisions being thus se- 
cured, the inhuman wretch left him to his fate, 
and Bedell never saw either of the Asburys again. 

All through the darkness of that last long and 
gloomy night the sufferer tossed upon his t>ed 
of straw. Hope had not wholly deserted him. 
"Surely, "he thought, "they will at least bring 
me my breakfast. " But the hours passed; they 
did not come, and then the helpless invalid knew 
that he was deserted. 

Two days and two very long nights had passed 
since he said farewell to his friends — it was now 
late in the evening of the third day. I shall not 
shock the sensibility of my readers by a descrij)- 
tion of Bedell's sufferings during this time. It 
will suffice to simply outline his situation. He 
was helpless from desperate wounds; he was not 
only in the country of a political enemy, but in a 
region controlled by the enemies of the human 
race. He was lying on a straw bed, on the floor 
of an unfurnished room, through the walls of 



DESERTED. 63 

which the rains beat and the winds whistled. He 
could not move without a deathly spasm of pain. 
He had been robbed of his supplies. By an effort 
which almost exhausted his remaining strength, 
his single hand had got access to the box of 
crackers under his head, or he would have already 
starved. The guerillas would soon be upon him, 
for those who would steal his food would betray 
him to the enemy. If they did not, his wounds 
were every hour becoming 'more inflamed and 
more painful, and their pain could not be much 
longer endured. 

Then his thoughts went to his mountain home 
— to the wife and children who were this night re- 
membering him in their prayers, but, alas ! whom 
he should never see again. What would he not 
give for the strength to write them one last 
word, the power to give them one last counsel! 

So much as that he would try to do. In the 
pocket of his vest there was a lead-pencil. With 
this, on the cover of his cracker-box, he would 
write his name, his regiment, and a message to 
his family. They should not bury him, ignorant 
of his name, in an unidentified grave ! 

He strove to reach that pencil until his arm 
fell from exhaustion. No, he could not even 
write his name and a last message to the loved 
ones at home ! 

Then he began to wonder when he would die. 
Would it be at sunrise to-morrow? Most men 



04 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

did die at sunrise. Would he see the sun rise in 
another and a better world where there was no 
suffering, or would he die to-morrow night or 
the next morning? Then he prayed that, weak 
and helpless and stranded as he was, the Lord 
would show him whether there was any way 
that he could yet be of service to his country. 

There, was an answer to his prayer. It made 
every nerve in his body thrill with hoj^e. His 
door gently opened and out of the darkness came 
a whisper. "Kunnel!" it said, "I's got nufifin 
but a jug of cold water for ye ! May I come in?" 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE. 

The mining engineer of 1860 is the colonel of 
a Federal regiment in 1864. In a single cam- 
paign he has left half his regiment on the plains 
of Virginia, and now in the early autumn he has 
led its thinned ranks into the valley of Virginia. 
He has marched his men from Harper's Ferry, 
by the Charlestown turnpike, over the same route 
that he rode in 1860, and with the brigade to 
which his regiment is attached is now in camp 
at Claremont, one of the farms formerly pointed 
out to him as the property of Colonel Luke, cele- 
brated for its production of fine horses. 

Early one morning he rode out to find the 
beautiful estate of Audley, which had so im- 
pressed him on his first visit. He had some diffi- 
culty in recognizing it, although it had fared 
somewhat better than its neighbors. Its owner 
was in the service in a distant part of the Con- 
federacy. He found the old servant who had 
been so polite and hospitable, but who did not 
now recognize him. He had changed with the 
estate. His hair could not have been whiter or 
5 65 



66 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

his aspect more venerable; but his countenance 
was sorrowful, his clothing worn and rusty. 
From him the colonel learned that the fine horses 
and cattle had been exchanged for Confederate 
securities early in 1801. The wave of invasion 
and retreat which had so many times rolled up 
and down the valley had injured Audley less 
than its neighbors, but it had levelled the fences 
and destroyed many of its attractions. There 
was no colored flock of "sassy imps" to greet 
the traveller. The mistress and the family had 
left the valley and a general air of sadness 
pervaded the estate. 

The colonel extended his inquiries to the Van 
Metre farm and mill. Here greater changes had 
taken place. Its proprietor had brought from 
the Luray Valley Miss Elizabeth, better known 
as Miss Betty Keyser, to become its mistress and 
to bear his name. Then he had enlisted in the 
Confederate cavalry ; her two brothers in other 
branches of the service. She must have been a 
young bride, for now in 1864 she had not com- 
pleted her nineteenth year. Like another Penel- 
ope, she was keeping the mill and farm to await 
her husband's return. There, with Peter, a for- 
mer slave, Dick Runner, a colored man in the mill, 
Ginny, his wife, and her young niece of nine 
years, she still lived, though battles had raged 
and the unloosed dogs of war with bloody mouths 
had howled around her for more than three 



THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE. 67 

years. The mill farm had suffered with the 
others. The horses, cattle, all the live-stock, all 
the wagons and other vehicles, everything which 
could subsist men or animals had been swept 
away. The mill was no longer a source of in- 
come, for there was no more wheat or corn to be 
ground. The fences had been levelled ; the thrift 
and prosperi cy which the traveller witnessed only 
four years before had melted away in the lurid 
atmosphere of three years of relentless war. 

The brave young wife, with a colored man 
once a slave but, although now free, faithful to 
his mistress, had kept the mill and farm through 
all the disturbances of war. Her husband, after 
long immunity from wounds and calamities, had 
been captured, and on his way to Harper's Ferry 
had been permitted by his captors to call at his 
home, procure a change of clothing, and take 
leave of his wife. Then he had been carried 
North to encounter vicissitudes, of which more 
will be written in the course of the story. In 
one respect the reports which the colonel had 
from his colored informant and other sources 
agreed. The young wife from the Luray Valley 
was a woman of strong character who had secured 
the respect of all who had been brought into con- 
tact with her by the fortunes of war; her prop- 
erty had been to some extent protected by Con- 
federates and Unionists, and up to this time even 
the camp-followers had not raided her home. 



68 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

When the colonel returned to his camp at 
Claremont he ordered a guard for the protection 
of the Van Metre homestead, and directed that 
it should be maintained until the army moved. 
Afterward he with other officers of his brigade 
called at the door and made the young wife's ac- 
quaintance. They were all impressed with the 
brave attempt at cheerfulness which she main- 
tained in her loneliness, and all treated her with 
deference and kindness ; for they knew that as 
yet she was only a Southern girl, living in the 
midst of war, at the mercy of those she had been 
taught to look upon as the deadly enemies of 
herself and her people, and who were even then 
holding her husband as a j^i'isoner. She was 
living, with no companion but her little niece, 
like so many other sorrowful women North and 
South, patient in their anxiety and desolation, 
waiting and praying for peace. 

These officers speedily made the discovery that 
this young Virginia matron was a lady both by 
nature and education. She expressed her grati- 
tude for their protection of her property, and in 
every other respect conducted herself with marked 
propriety and dignity. As already mentioned, 
it was one of these officers, weary of the eternal 
sameness of the army ration, who with a tender 
memory of the superiority of his mother's cook- 
ing, one day ventured to ask Mrs. Van Metre 
whether she would not prepare a meal or two 



THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE. 69 

from their supplies. She readily promised to do 
so, and with some vegetables from her own 
garden cooked for them a few meals which were 
long remembered. Thus it happened that upon 
four or five occasions half a dozen officers of 
the Vermont brigade and of General Getty's 
staff broke bread at Mrs. Van Metre's table. 

With this sketch in mind we may return to 
the deserted officer. Early one morning Uncle 
Dick Runner came to Mrs. Van Metre, with his 
finger on his lips and an earnest expression of 
secrecy on his face. " 'Fore de Lord, Missus 
Betty," he whispered, "a Union officer is a dyin' 
in dat house ober dar whar de Asburys are. I's 
jes' come from dar and I tink he is dyin' now." 

" Why did you not tell me of this before, Dick?" 
asked his mistress with some severity. 

"Why — why — you see, 'twas dis way," he 
stammered. "Dem Asburys is no good. Dey 
promis de kunnel's friends to take care of de 
kunnel. Dey get pay for it. I promis I'd go 
see when he wanted something. I go dere tree, 
four times; dem Asburys won't lef me in. Dey 
say it's none o' my business. Dey goin' to take 
care ob de kunnel ! Early dis morning I steal in 
de house. I went upstair. De poor man had 
no water. He can't move. I tink dem As- 
burys steal his food. I ran got some water, 
Dat room was an awful jDlace. I clar it up a 
little, den I come for you." 



70 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

" Come with me, Dick !" exclaimed the energetic 
woman, and in a moment she was Hterally flying 
over the ground to the house where Bedell 
lay. Dick followed as fast as his ancient legs 
would carry him. She walked into the base- 
ment without ceremony. " Where is the soldier 
you are suffering to die in solitude?'' she de- 
manded of the miserable couple, who were still 
living in that part of the house. 

"Oh! he's a Lincoln hireling," said the female 
Asbury. "We don't care for him. We haven't 
been near him. Who cares if he does die? He's 
upstairs somewhere!" 

"I am ashamed that you are a woman!" ex- 
claimed Mrs. Van Metre. "You promised to 
take care of him and were paid for it. You stole 
his food and left him and would not let Dick see 
him! If he dies 3'ou are murderers and ought to 
be hung!" With this greeting she rushed up to 
the room where Bedell lay. 

"I cannot tell you what I saw or what I said," 
she afterward explained to the writer. " It was 
something like this. He lay upon the floor on 
a straw bed — his eyes sunken and hollow, his 
great wound where the leg seemed taken off near 
the hip all exposed, the matter dripping from it. 
One hand was wrapped in a handkerchief; with" 
the other he was vainly trying to cover himself 
with an army blanket. 

" I was overcome, and instead of going to work 



THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE. 71 

I foolishly asked whether I could do anythmg 
for him. The j)oor fellow burst into tears. 'I 
hope you will excuse me,' he said. 'lam very 
weak — I have lost some blood, and it has been 
lonely here; and when I saw you I thought of 

my wife — and — and ' 

" 'Stop!' I said. 'Speaking only weakens you. 
I see just how it is!' By this time I was quite 
myself. There was a pail of fresh water which 
Dick had brought. I gave him a cupful, which 
he drank, and a second and a third. I said to 
Dick, 'Take the horse and go for Dr. Osborne. 
Tell him I want him just as quick as he can 
come. ' Then I dropped on the floor by the poor 
fellow's side, and with a handkerchief dipped in 
the cool water washed his face, his hands, his 
exposed wound. He kept crying and begging 
my pardon and telling how weak he was. 'Cry !' 
I said. 'I would cry if I were in your place. Why 
shouldn't you cry? But you must remember one 
thing — you are not going to be alone any more. 
I shall see to that. ' So I kept talkingand bath- 
ing and he crying and thanking me until he 
seemed quite refreshed. Then I said, 'I do not 
like to leave you, but I ought to have some 
things ready when the doctor comes. Are you 
willing that I should run over to my house and 
get them?' He said yes quite cheerfully, and I 
was glad to see that his mind was as clear as 
mine. 



72 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

" I went to my house very quickly. Some intui- 
tion tlie day before had led me to boil a chicken, 
and I set about making a dish of strong broth 
before the doctor came. Before it was quite 
ready Dick rode up to my door. He had brought 
the doctor in half the time I expected. Dick 
had been sent to see if I had a syringe ; if not he 
was to go to Gaylord for the doctor's. I gave 
him mine and he took it to Dr. Osborne." 

She paused; her animated face became very 
grave. "I quite forgot myself," she said, "in 
thinking of what happened almost thirty years 
ago. You must get the rest of the story from 
some one else. For me to tell it is too much 
like blowing my own trumpet." 

"Madam," I said, "you ought not to decline 
to give me the rest of this story. I intend to 
give it to the world, and I would like to have it 
from your own lips." 

"I am afraid you will not understand me, sir," 
she said. "I am not entitled to the least credit. 
Any other woman would have done what I did. 
Why, the poor man's condition was horrible — 
horrible!" she exclaimed with a shudder. 

"I will assent to anything — I will say that 
black is white if you wish ; but the story — pray 
go on with the story. You were at the point 
where the doctor sent for the syringe. Go on 
and do not stop again!" 

" I sent Dick with the syringe. I poured the 



THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE. 73 

broth into a bottle, corked it, and gave it to my 
niece. I gathered up pieces of Hnen, two Hnen 
sheets, a blanket and a thick comforter, and we 
both returned to the room where the poor man 
lay. Dr. Osborne had already removed the offi- 
cer's coat and vest. He waited while I gave him 
a cup of the chicken broth. It delighted me to 
see him drink it and call for more until he had 
taken the whole. It seemed to put life in him. 

" Then the doctor resumed his work, with the 
assistance of Dick and myself. The details will 
not interest you. We got him fairly well bathed 
— his wounds cleansed and in clean bandages. 
The thick comforter over his straw tick made a 
softer bed ; we placed him between clean sheets 
witli a blanket over him, and before we had quite 
finished he was asleep." 

So much of the story of her first interview with 
Bedell after he was wounded I had from Mrs. Van 
Metre's own lips. It was interrupted by the en- 
trance of her husband, whom I then saw for the 
first time. I was not able afterward to induce 
her to continue the relation. She could not, she 
said, talk about herself. I continue the story as 
I gathered it from other sources. 

Bedell continued to sleep so soundly that ordi- 
nary conversation did not disturb him. Then the 
doctor called Mrs. Van Metre to account. 

"You are a fine Confederate woman," began 
the doctor. "Here is a Northern invader, a Lin- 



74 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

coin hireling, who has come here to rob us of our 
property and to conquer us, and you are trying 
to save his life! Why don't you do your duty 
and leave him to die?" 

" Because a good Confederate — Dr. Osborne — is 
just as much interested iis I am in saving his 
life ; because no true woman could do otherwise 
than as I am doing. Doctor, let us not have any 
false pretences between us. When I first came 
and offered to help him he tried to ixiake me go 
away ; his condition was unfit to be seen, he said. 
He was thankful, he said, God alone knew how 
thankful; but he was past all hope. Would I 
not kindly go away and leave him to die? 

"Look at him now," she said as she turned 
her earnest face toward the man now sleeping so 
reetfully who had been so hopeless only a few 
hours before. "Are you not repaid already? 
Can you refuse to help me save his life?" 

"Mother Eve was too much for Adam in the 
first discussion in the garden and you carry too 
many guns for a country doctor. No ! no ! God 
bless your kindly heart, Betty Van Metre ! I can 
refuse you nothing. Friend or enemy, we will 
save this man if we can!" 

"What do you think are his chances, doctor?" 

"I can tell much better when he wakes and I 
can have some conversation with him. I think 
he has had great distress of mind. But the 
manner in which he yielded to your influence 



THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE. 75 

and his present sleep are very hopeful. He may 
sleej) for hours. Let Uncle Dick go for Ginny. 
She is an excellent nurse and will watch him as 
well as you can. Then you go home and we 
will meet here at four o'clock to-day." 

Ginny was sent for and placed in charge. 
Uncle Dick decided to stay with her, "to keep 
dem misabul Asburys outen de room." Mrs. 
Van Metre returned to her own dwelling. 

Her restricted larder could still provide a 
roasted chicken and corn bread made with her 
own hands for her patient's dinner. She came 
before the hour. The wounded man was awake, 
much refreshed by his sleep. Bat he was still 
very weak, and when, knowing that he had but 
one hand, she seated herself on the floor by his 
bed, carved the chicken, and gave him the deli- 
cious and tender meat, he was profuse in his 
apologies for his nervousness, which still found 
expression in his moistened eyes. He had made 
an excellent dinner when the doctor arrived. 

Mrs. Van Metre left the room during the doc- 
tor's long examination of the patient. At the 
end of it the doctor said he preferred to talk 
with her at her own house. Arrangements were 
made for Ginny to stay with Bedell during the 
night, and the doctor and Mrs. Van Metre re- 
turned to her home. 



CHAPTER IX. 

THE CONSULTATION — THE COUNTRY DOCTOR — THE 
DECISION OF THE HEROINE. 

" I HAVE had a very satisfactory interview with 
Lieutenant Bedell, " began the doctor. " His mind 
is clear and I think I can make a good estimate 
of his chances." 

" When can I remove him to my own house, 
where he can have proper care?" earnestly asked 
Mrs. Van Metre. 

"My dear madam," replied the doctor, "you 
anticipate me. I do not know that that time 
will ever come. This man has been very near to 
death. But for you he would not be living to- 
day. I would say nothing to discourage you, 
Heaven knows, but I have studied his condition 
thoroughly. I suppose yo.u would like to know 
just what I think his chances are?" 

"Most certainly, doctor. But he seemed so 
much improved to-night that I hojoed he was out 
of danger." 

" Very far from that, I assure you. He has a 
splendid constitution, which gives me all the hope 
I have. But he has received wounds which in 

76 



THE CONSULTATION. 77 

tlie majority of cases would have been fatal. He 
has been subjected to fearful surgical operations 
— then just as nature was asserting herself they 
tried to move him and he fainted. They carried 
him back to that room, and there for four days 
he has lain deserted, the fever and inflammation 
increasing by neglect and the consciousness 
of his condition wearing his life away. It is a 
miracle, almost, that he did not die. Your com- 
ing and what you did gave him hope and pro- 
duced a powerful reaction. But he is very weak. 
The suppuration of his wounds, now unavoid- 
able, will make heavy drafts upon his vitality, 
which I tell you frankly 1 do not believe he can 
endure. As for moving him now, that is out of 
the question. He would die before you got him 
out of the house!" 

"Poor fellow! and he has a wife and children! 
And how brave he is ! and how grateful ! Must 
he die? Don't give him up, doctor! Is there 
nothing we can do to save him?" 

"My dear madam, I have never felt our pov- 
erty and destitution as I do to-day. Yes, some- 
thing might be done for him. If we had stimu- 
lants and medicines to brace him up and enable 
him to meet the drafts which his wounds will 
make upon his system, his superb constitution 
might pull him through. If we had the quinine 
and whiskey left by his friends and which have 
been stolen from his bed, they would do much." 



78 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

" Cannot we buy these stimulants with money?" 

"No. The only stimulant to be had is a quart 
or so of cider brandy from an illicit still. It 
burns like nitric acid — it is not as good for our 
purposes as alcohol. As for quinine, I have not 
seen an ounce of it in a year." 

"But, doctor, don't tell me that it is impos- 
sible to get what will save such a life! There 
must be some place where it exists and some 
way to get it!" 

"There is at Harper's Ferry a depot of the 
Sanitary Commission, where there is an abun- 
dance of everything we want, but those supplies 
are for the Federal army, not for us Confederates. 
They are as safe from you and me as if they 
were locked behind bolts and bars and guarded 
by an angel with a flaming sword!" 

" Do you say, doctor, that if you had those med- 
icines from Harjjer's Ferry you believe you could 
save the life of that wounded officer?" 

"I do most certainly believe I could," said the 
doctor with an earnestness that was very grave. 

His auditor started from her seat. She walked 
quickly to the window and looked at the setting 
sun. Then she walked back and stood before 
the medical man like a statue. There was a 
ring of determination in her voice which thrilled 
him. 

"Doctor," she said, "prepare me a list of the 
things you need, and which you think the Sani- 



THE DECISION OP THE HEROINE. 79 

tary Commission can furnish. To-morrow I shall 
go to Harper's Ferry and get them !" 

The doctor's breath was almost taken away. 
After a little he managed to exclaim: "My dear 
woman, what are you thinking about? Have 
you gone crazy? Don't you know that Harper's 
Ferry is in the hands of our enemies? You 
could not get within their lines ! If you could, 
they would arrest and probably hang you as a 
spy. Positively it is the most reckless prop- 
osition I ever heard in my life. I cannot let 
you do it!" 

"But I must do it, doctor! There is no one 
else to go. We must have the medicines and I 
have no choice." 

"Why do you take so much interest in this 
Northern man who has been wounded in battle 
by our own friends?" 

"I am not surprised that you ask, and I do not 
know that I can answer your question to your 
satisfaction or, indeed, to my own. He is a 
wounded, suffering man, with a home far away, 
and in it are a wife and children. If any woman 
knowing that and seeing him as I have seen him 
could do otherwise than I have done, she is not 
such a woman as I am. Then weeks ago his 
general placed guards upon and protected my 
home. From all his brother-officers myself and 
my little niece have received the most courte- 
ous and considerate treatment. This officer and 



W AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

others have eaten at my table. I cannot help 
thinkmg that I should be doing a good deed if 
I could help save such a noble man ! 

" But my strongest reason is yet to be given. 
You may laugh at me and think me superstitious 
if you like. But when Dick Runner first told 
me that a Union officer was dying in that house, 
the thought possessed me that if I could help 
that man, some Northern woman might help my 
husband. This notion, if you will call it such, 
absolutely controls me. When I go forward 
something tells me that I am doing right. When 
I hold back and ask why I should take any 
trouble for him, I can almost hear a voice say- 
ing, 'Betty Van Metre, as you deal with that suf- 
fering man so shall 3'our husband be dealt with. 
Nurse him, cure him, do all in your power for 
him, if you wish ever again to see your hus- 
band!' I feel, I know that in some way the 
fate of my husband is bound up with that of 
this Union officer ! 

"Am I not doing right, doctor? Here I am 
alone, inexperienced, and not yet twenty years 
old. If I am doing wrong you, who have had 
experience, ought to advise me. I am acting ac- 
cording to my lights." 

"Mrs. Van Metre, you have answered me. I 
do solemnly believe you are acting the part of a 
true woman. If you were my daughter I would 
tell you so. But I cannot advise you to go to 



THE DECISION OF THE HEROINE. 81 

Harper's Ferry. The turnpike is beset with 
tramps and guerillas. The prospect of success is 
too remote, and I believe you will fail." 

" I might succeed where a man would fail. I 
shall go to-morrow morning, so you had better 
make all your preparations and give me full 
directions ! " 

'' I must at least insist on your postponing it 
another day. I ought to consider you an obsti- 
nate, wilful child. You will be insulted, morti- 
fied, probably imprisoned, and you will fail. Yet 
I shall probably let you go, the man will die, and 
I shall never see you again !" 

"You are not an encouraging adviser, doctor. 
But I am in the hands of the Almighty. I must 
trust him and do what seems to be necessary. 
It will take Peter a day to repair the old wagon, 
so we have that time for preparation." 

She again visited her patient and prepared him 
for the night. He was cheerful, thankful, but 
her heart sank when she found how little strength 
he had. She arranged with the three colored 
servants to see that he was not again left alone. 

The next w^as a busy day. From her own 
nearly exhausted larder, the box of crackers, 
and the milk of a neighbor's cow she provided 
his food for the next day. He saw that prepara- 
tions were being made for something and he 
wished to know what. She made some excuse, 
which satisfied him. 
6 



82 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

Successive Confederate and Union invasions of 
the valley had swept from her farm every horse 
save one — an old animal, spavined, foundered, 
worthless for almost every purpose. A long-dis- 
used wagon had also been left because it would 
scarcely hold together to be moved away. Uncle 
Peter, who was a skilful cobbler of wheeled vehi- 
cles as well as shoes, was directed out of the re- 
mains to reconstruct a wagon which should with- 
stand the hard usage of a journey to Harper's 
Ferry and back, a distance of more than forty 
miles, over roads which had not been repaired 
since the beginning of the war and which had 
been many times furrowed by army wagons 
and artillery. This work occupied him for the 
day. 

As soon as the doctor called in the morning his 
patient insisted upon being informed of the prepa- 
rations going on and what they signified. "I 
will tell you," said the doctor, "and then I must 
rely upon your discretion. You must promise 
not to attempt to dissuade Mrs. Van Metre from 
what she intends to do. She insists upon making 
an attempt to procure from Harper's Ferry the 
stimulants which you must have if you are to 
recover. 

"I think the journey a most dangerous one, 
I do not think she will be allowed to enter the 
town. If she gets to the Sanitary depot I do not 
believe she will be given the articles we need. 



THE DECISION OF THE HEROINE. 83 

But she is so determiDed that I dare not take the 
responsibihty of preventing her, nor should you. 
On the contrary, I think we should encourage and 
assist her." 

Bedell assented; in fact, he was almost too 
feeble to resist. In the evening Mrs. Van Metre 
took the control of the sick-room. Ginny, the 
colored nurse, was to remain with the officer, 
and in her possession was placed the most nour- 
ishing food which Mrs. Van Metre's stores could 
supply. Then they bathed the hands, face, and 
much of the body of the wounded man, with such 
a comforting effect that he went to sleep under 
their hands. 

Our heroine very much wanted something 
from Bedell which would serve her for creden- 
tials, otherwise the only proof that he was alive 
and that she was acting for him was her own 
word. But he was too weak to write or even 
to give her instructions which would be useful. 
The army had moved and he did not know that 
he had an acquaintance in the town. 

Under these circumstances she felt at liberty 
to examine Bedell's clothing to see whether she 
could not find something that would prove his 
identity. In one of the pockets of his coat she 
found a letter; the stamp of the War Office was 
upon the envelope. She removed the letter from 
the envelope and found that its folds adheied 
together. It had been saturated by his blood. 



84: AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

Carefully separating one of these folds, she saw 
that the letter was the official announcement of 
his last promotion, directed with his full name. 
She thrust it into her hosom, gave to Ginny her 
last directions, breathed a prayer for the safety 
of her patient, and about midnight returned to 
her own home. 



CHAPTER X. • 

THE FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER 'S FERRY. 

Early the next morning Mistress Betty took 
her seat in the rickety vehicle and slowly started 
her stiffened Rosinante on his twenty-mile jour- 
ney to Harper's Ferry and return. It could 
not be said that she handled the ribbons grace- 
fully, for in her case the cord of a dismantled 
bedstead replaced the reins. She encountered 
parties of camp-followers and tramps, but none 
of them could discover any reward for robbery in 
her empty conveyance. The road was rough and 
her progress slow. It was seven long hours 
after she started before she reached the pickets 
of the Union post. 

To the young officer in command of the picket 
she told the plain truth. She gave her true 
name — said she lived in Berryville, that her 
husband and brothers were in the Confederate 
army, that she was a Southern woman. She 
said that near her home in Berryville, in a vacant 
house, there was an officer of the Union army 
desperately wounded and about to die for want 
of nourishing food and stimulating remedies. 

85 



8G AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

She gave his name and regiment. Slie had come, 
she said, to procure these necessaries from the 
Sanitary Commission. She had no other errand. 
She asked to be taken before the general in com- 
mand of the post without delay, that she might 
accomplish her errand and return. 

It was about this time that smuggling into the 
Confederacy was at its height. The notorious 
Belle Boyd had been detected and imprisoned, and 
many other agents and spies had not only carried 
medicines and mails, but the Union plans to the 
Southern leaders. These operations had been 
the cause of the loss of many lives and much 
Union property. The greatest strictness now 
prevailed. No one was permitted to pass the 
lines without orders from the general command- 
ing the army in that military department. 

The officer of the picket feared that he had one 
of these spies in petticoats on his hands, and yet, 
being a gentleman, he could not withhold his 
confidence from that frank, open face or order a 
search of her person, to which she volunteered 
to submit. It was the hour for the relief of his 
guard, and riding by her side he escorted the 
singular conveyance and its driver to the quar- 
ters of General Stevenson, to whom, while she 
waited without, the young officer told her story. 
It elicited many oh's and ah's and other ex- 
pressions of incredulity from the experienced 
veteran. 



FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER's FERRY. 87 

Then the driver was called into the general's 
presence and sharply questioned. She repeated 
her story. She had no other, and there was not 
a fact or circumstance in it upon which the gen- 
eral could hang the shadow of a suspicion. 

Her bearing was so unassuming, her story so 
absolutely unexceptionable, that the general was 
annoyed because he could not take exception to 
either. He took refuge in fuming and fault-find- 
ing. "Why can't you women stay at home and 
attend to your own affairs?" he growled. " I would 
have much preferred to do so," she said, "but if 
I had your officer would surely have died." 
" There it is again !" he said. "They always have 
some reason on their lips that the devil himself 
can't answer. Now if this was a man I'd know 
what to do with him. Probably I would hang 
him as a spy ! It is easier to deal with fifty men 
than one soft-spoken woman. Here you, madam! 
Don't you know that this yarn of yours is the 
d — dest improbable story ever invented ? Excuse 
me for swearing in the presence of a lady, for 
you look like a lady and d — n me if I don't be- 
lieve you are a lady. But why didn't 3'ou bring 
a letter from the officer when you were going on 
such a dangerous errand where you would 
inevitably risk your life?" 

"The lieutenant was too feeble to write, sir, 
and his right hand is all shot to pieces. He 
would have made the effort if I had asked him, 



88 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

but I knew he could not write, and the exertion 
would have made him weaker!" 

"But a woman as bright as you are might 
have brought some credentials — a button from 
his coat or something from his pocket. How 
can I take your unconfirmed story?" 

"While he was asleej), sir, I confess I did ex- 
amine his pockets, and in one of them I found 
this." Dexterously opening a seam in her skirt, 
she extracted from it the blood-stained letter, 
which she handed to the general, who passed it to 
a member of his staff and directed him to read it. 
The officer removed the letter from its envelope 
without glancing at the direction. While sep- 
arating the adhering folds he saw its beginning. 

" Bedell ! Bedell !" exclaimed the officer. " How 
came you by this, madam? Bedell was in our 
brigade. He was mortally wounded and died 
more than a week ago. We had to leave him, 
poor fellow, and it was a shame that we did 
so. I know he is dead, for the nurse we left with 
him came into camp the next day and reported 
that he died during the night. This letter must 
have been taken from his body." 

"Lieutenant Bedell was not dead this morning 
at sunrise," she said, and her voice was very 
tender as she continued : " He would have been 
in my house, but he was too weak to be moved. 
I left him in a deserted house near mine in charge 
of a faithful old colored couple. His hand is shot 



FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER'S FERRY. 89 

and useless ; he has not strength to hold a pen. 
He will die if I do not get what I came for. I fear 
he will die before I get home. My own doctor 
has said so. That is why I came, gentlemen," 
she continued. " Pray think of one of your wives 
or daughters on my errand, and for their sakes 
give me what I came for and let me go. I do 
not ask for myself, but for your brother-officer, 
now very near his end. I am trying to save 
him for his own wife and children. I am afraid 
if I am much longer delayed I shall not find him 
alive when I go home." 

Her lips and her voice were tremulous as she 
closed her pathetic appeal. No one answered 
her. There were eyes in the group that were 
not dry, and the veteran general seemed to be 
trying to divert attention from his own emotions 
by vehemently blowing his nose. Just then, un- 
announced, another officer entered the room. "I 
hear there is a lady here whom I want to see," 
he exclaimed, and rushing forward he strode 
up to the timid woman and warmly grasped 
both her hands. "God bless you, Mrs. Van 
Metre!" he exclaimed. "Why are you here 
and what can this camp do for you?" Then she 
recognized in his cordial greeting and earnest 
look the voice and face of one of the officers who 
had sat at her table and j^ar taken of the luxuries 
of her cookery. "Tell me," he repeated, "what 
any of us can do for you." 



90 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

"You can do me a very great favor if you can 
convince these gentlemen that I am telling the 
truth," she said. "I am not here for myself, 
but for one of your brother-officers. Lieutenant 
Bedell." 

" Poor Bedell !" he responded. "How shame- 
ful it was that we left him to die. I should have 
sta3"ed with him at any risk, although he insisted 
that we should leave him for our duties with 
the army. But he did not suffer long. The 
nurse whom we left with him reported that he died 
the next morning. But pray what can be done 
for him now?" 

"Lieutenant Bedell is not dead, as I have as- 
sured these gentlemen," said Mrs. Van Metre. 
"We still hope. Dr. Osborne and myself, that we 
can save him, if I can have the things for which 
I have come." 

" You can have anything that this camp can 
furnish for such a purpose, but the news is too 
good. Bedell alive! I could as readily have be- 
lieved he was raised from the dead," warmly 
responded the officer. "But what do you want? 
What have you come for? You shall have it at 
once!" 

The general here interposed, and turning to the 
messenger asked : 

"Are you a LTnion woman?" 

"I am not," she replied. "I am a Southern 
woman to the last drop of my blood. My hus- 



FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER'S FERRY. 91 

band and brothers are Confederate soldiers and 
my husband is now in the hands of your people 
a prisoner of war. I hope and pray that the 
South may yet be victorious and your Northern 
army defeated." 

" Rebel or not, you are a brave and I believe 
you are a good, true woman !" said the general. 
" But about giving you supplies which may be 
used to cure some sick Confederate ! we shall have 
to think about that. What shall we do with her, 
gentlemen? Her conduct violates all the rules 
of war. I suppose it is my duty to arrest and 
imprison her as a spy. I wish she had not come. 
I fear she will prove an elephant on our hands. 
How we should be laughed at if we gave her 
what she wants and the supplies went straight 
to Mosby's camp! Again I ask, what shall we 
do with her?" 

" I would like to ask the lady why she takes 
so much interest in the fate of an enemy?" asked 
a young officer. 

"Dr. Osborne, my physician, asked me that 
question and I have asked it of myself. I do not 
know that I can give a satisfactory answer. 
Lieutenant Bedell and his brother-officers placed 
guards over my little property — they have all 
treated me with the courtesy of gentlemen. My 
husband is a prisoner. I have thought that if I 
could save the life of this man for his wife and 
family, the Lord might put it into the heart of 



92 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

some Northern woman to be equally kind and 
helpful to my husband. If these suggestions do 
not answer you, then I say that I suppose it is 
because I am a woman and have a woman's 
heart, and I cannot — Heaven knows I cannot — 
see such a brave man suffer and die without 
doing all that I can to save him. If these rea- 
sons are not sufficient I am sorry^ — I can only say 
that I have no other." 

" If she is not a trustworthy woman there never 
was one," said the officer who had previously 
made her acquaintance. " I would believe her as 
I would my mother. Then are we not bound to 
take some risk for Bedell ? I vote for furnishing 
her with everything she wants, and I am ready 
to take the whole risk!" 

"I think, gentlemen, we are all agreed," said 
the general with the caution of an army officer. 
" We believe what this lady says. She is work- 
ing for the life of one of our brother-officers. 
We will furnish her with all the materials and 
facilities which will promote her good work. If 
any one entertains a different opinion, now is his 
time to express it." 

There was no dissension. All set about con- 
tributing to the work. Every possible attention 
was shown to Mrs. Van Metre. Even the old 
horse was refreshed with such a feed as he had 
not enjoyed since the war began. 

Mrs. Van Metre gave them the memorandum 



FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER'S FERRY. 93 

prepared by Dr. Osborne of BedelFs real necessi- 
ties. To this the surgeons and agents of the Com- 
mission made liberal additions. The Sanitary and 
Christian Commissions, the stores and private sup- 
plies of the officers were drawn upon, and the load 
as made up severely taxed the strength and ca- 
pacity of the vehicle. The driver decided that it 
would be unsafe to undertake the transportation of 
such a load in the day-time through a region so 
destitute, infested by so many bands of roving rob- 
bers, all following their merciless instincts. The 
supplies were closely packed in boxes and the re- 
turn postponed until evening, notwithstanding 
one of the officers very significantly suggested 
that she would run no risk of attack on her 
return. 

At nightfall she left the camp followed by the 
God -speed of officers and men, her heart as full 
of gratitude as her wagon was with medicines 
and necessaries. The old horse appeared to have 
renewed his youth and activity. He picked his 
way cautiously over the rough places, and wher- 
ever he came to a smoother road, without a word 
or touch of the whip he bowled along at a pace 
of six or seven miles an hour. 

Her heart sank once on the return journey. 
She was within two miles of her home when she 
heard the sound of horses galloping on the road 
behind her. The old horse increased his paces, 
but she knew she was being rapidly overtaken. 



94 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

They must be her pursuers, she thought — they 
were guerillas or robbers. It was too much that 
after all her success she should lose her supplies 
when so near her home — that her good fortune 
should desert her and her enterprise come to 
naught ! 

No ! no ! Thank Heaven ! Separating into two 
lines, the party swept past her. The leader spoke. 
She recognized the voice of her acquaintance who 
had been so kind to her during the day. It was 
expressed in different language, but it filled her 
agitated breast with the same feeling which gave 
strength to the arms and firmness to the hearts 
of the disciples when, toiling at the oars, they 
heard through storm and tempest the cheering 
message, "It is I, be not afraid!" The voice 
of this leader said, "No guerillas — no robbers 
will harm you. We are your escort to Berry- 
ville!" 

Her escort waited at the junction of the road 
leading to her home with the turnpike, and 
watched her until she reached her own door. As 
she drove past them they gave her a respectful 
fusillade of good wishes and kind messages to 
her patient. She found the doctor waiting for 
her, much troubled by the delay of her return. 
The lieutenant was sleeping under the watchful 
eye of Ginny, but he had been growing weaker 
during the day. The abundant load of supplies 
was transferred to Mrs. Van Metre's store-room, 



FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER'S FERRY, 95 

where it was safe under lock and key. But the 
doctor would not defer the administration of a 
remedy from which he expected immediate re- 
sults. He prepared it, and with the fortunate 
messenger went to the patient's bedside, aroused 
and. administered it to him. 



CHAPTEE XI. 

THE PECULIARITIES OF THE COUNTRY DOCTOR — 
THE REMOVAL AND CONCEALMENT UNDER DIF- 
FICULTIES OF A STALWART ENEMY, 

Upon several occasions in my life it has hap- 
pened to me to be brought into contact with the 
country doctor. I have met him socially and 
professionally, and in one instance he has been 
closely connected with my own family. I have 
always found him exhibiting the same specific 
characters. As an interesting species of our 
race, he deserves some description. 

He is, I believe, the most charitable and kind- 
hearted expression of our humanity. His life is 
laborious — he belongs to the most arduous and 
difficult of what are known as the learned i^rofes- 
sions. He deals with the complex mechanism of 
life, which is never at rest, is in constant opera- 
tion, and through our negligence of its demands, 
exposed to disarrangement and injury. Unless 
he understands all its delicate functions he is 
useless, and the knowledge of these functions is 
only to be acquired by long and patient study. 
He must be able to detect the diseased parts, not 

96 



PECULIARITIES OF THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. 97 

by simple inspection, as in the case of other ma- 
chinery, but by symptoms, deductions, or by 
what is called diagnosis, and when he has located 
the defect he must know how it can be repaired. 
To practise at all and to protect himself against 
the perils of malpractice, he must attain to a 
measure of skill only to be acquired by a long and 
thorough course of training. 

When he has acquired the knowledge necessary 
to his being admitted to his profession, he cannot, 
like the ordinary mechanic, sit in his shop and 
have his work brought to him to be done at his 
leisure, where his tools are ready to his hand. 
No. Nature cannot wait — pain, her messenger, 
is imperative. The country doctor must be ready 
to answer her call at any hour of the day or 
night. More often than otherwise he will be 
aroused from his refreshing sleep at midnight — he 
will have to harness his own horse and in storm 
and darkness make his way oveif hill and moun- 
tain to some distant cottage where the patient lies 
impatiently awaiting his coming. 

Is he always adequately rewarded? Does he 
stipulate for and secure his fee in advance ? No ! 
In the majority of cases he performs his service 
upon a credit which will only mature in another 
world. It is none the less valuable on that 
account, for he never stops to inquire whether 
the patient is able to pay. The city practitioner 
called from his sleep in the night by a stranger 



98 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

may coolly refer the messenger to his young part- 
ner at some number a dozen blocks away and 
shut the door in his face. The country doctor is 
never guilty of such unfeeling incivility. He 
answers the call in person. Wherefore it is that 
throughout my professional life I have thought 
and said of the country doctor, " He is the true 
Samaritan, an honor to his profession and to 
mankind." 

As Adam Smith once wrote of humanity, these 
country doctors are very much alike — very uni- 
form. Why did not Dr. Osborne, when he was 
sent for in great haste by Mrs. Van Metre, stop 
and inquire whether the patient was not "a Lin- 
coln hireling"? He was a Confederate, was Dr. 
Osborne. Politically, he was more interested in 
killing than in curing the officers of the Northern 
army. Why at least did he not stop and ascer- 
tain whether the patient would promise to com- 
pensate him if he recovered and should ever 
have the jDecuniary ability to do so? Why did 
he come at the first summons, take a deep inter- 
est in the case, repeat his visits from day to day, 
and never omit them until Bedell had no further 
need of him, without so much as one word on the 
subject of his fees? It was because he was a 
country doctor ! 

Dr. Osborne is dead. The writer has recently 
been among the people in the region where he 
lived and died. There is no question about the 



PECULIARITIES OF THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. 99 

esteem in which he was held by that community. 
When its members answered the writer's in- 
quiries about him their voices were low, their 
accents affectionate, their testimony unanimous 
that he was a good man. 

Although the exigencies of war had for a long 
time deprived his patients of their benefits, Dr. 
Osborne thoroughly understood the practical use 
of all modern surgical instruments and of all the 
medical remedies described in the Pharmacopoeia. 
He was simply amazed at the success of Mrs. Van 
Metre's expedition. The agents of the Sanitary 
antl Christian Commissions had not only furnished 
all the articles mentioned in his written memo- 
randum, but having obtained from the faithful 
messenger a description of Bedell's condition, they 
had added such things as they thought might 
prove useful in his case. The doctor left the 
coffee and tea, the canned meats, vegetables, and 
other food suj^plies to the administration of Mrs. 
Van Metre. Those which belonged to his own 
profession he displayed upon one of her tables. 
First of all, from the requisite materials he com- 
jjounded the strengthening and stimulating mix- 
ture which was to be administered every two 
hours. The draught of the previous evening had 
arrested the weakening process, and the first ap- 
plication in the morning appeared to turn the 
face of his patient in the direction of recovery. 

Then how the good doctor did revel in the 



100 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

pleasures of his profession and thank God for the 
liberahty of the Sanitary Commission. For this 
mountaineer was a man of experience and learn- 
ing, and he knew the uses of all the medicines 
and instruments, many of which he had seldom 
seen during the recent years of war. With a 
touch of affection he j^roceeded to remove the 
coverings and arrange the medicines in order. 
His heart leaped in his bosom when he came to 
the instruments. For his brother-surgeons had 
sent him a very complete assortment of the most 
modern and approved manufactures, with a grate- 
ful note requesting his acceptance of them after 
his patient had been cured. He laid them out, 
one by one, upon the table, surveyed and rejoiced 
over them, more pleased than a queen by the 
presentation of a casket of jewels. 

As soon as the patient had begun to feel the 
strengthening effects of the new remedies, he 
was visited by the doctor, Mrs. Van Metre, and the 
colored couple, Dick and Ginny. They trespassed 
upon the Asburys' fire enough to heat a quan- 
tity of water. The old dressings of his wounds 
were softened, removed, and committed to the 
flames, and new, clean bandages were applied. 
His entire body was thoroughly bathed. Uncle 
Dick was a very fair barber. He trimmed the 
patient's hair and whiskers and even attempted a 
moderate shampoo. Clean linen was put upon 
him, the cot bedstead and mattress from the Ferry 



REMOVAL AND CONCEALMENT. 101 

were set up, and the patient was placed between 
clean sheets upon them. Even the naked room was 
made a little more attractive and less desolate. 

Bedell bore the fatigue of this change fairly- 
well, and the doctor left him with the hope that 
if no set-back occurred his removal might be at- 
tempted within the next three or four days. 

The house where the officer lay was a good 
third of a mile from the Van Metre homestead, 
where Peter Dennis and near which Dick and 
Ginny lived. It was not safe to leave the lieu- 
tenant alone. "Dem Asburys," as Uncle Dick 
persisted in calling them, were unsafe neighbors, 
almost as dangerous as the guerillas and camp- 
followers. Mrs. Van Metre did not wish to leave 
her little niece alone in the house, and although 
the colored neighbors would stay with the 
wounded man during the night, Mrs. Van Metre 
experienced considerable difficulty in arranging 
matters during the day. She finally compromised 
by going to her patient once in three hours, 
keeping up his courage by a few minutes of cheer- 
ful conversation, and then returning home. 

But this plan involved much labor and left 
both places exposed during her temporary ab- 
sence. She therefore determined as soon as Be- 
dell's strength would permit that he should be 
removed to her own home, where he could have 
cheerful companionship and not be subject to 
exposure. 



102 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

How was this removal to be effected? He was 
a heavy man, he could not yet stand upon his 
single leg, he was in the second story of the 
house, and except her colored servants she had no 
one to assist her. She called upon Dick Runner 
to devise some means for his transfer. 

"Dick," she said, "the wdunded soldier must 
not be left in that solitary, exposed house any 
longer. I want him removed to my house. It 
must be done at once — to-day — and you must 
find a way to do it." 

" Dat's a hard job, Missus Betty ! De kunnel 
can't walk — he mus' be carried. He's berry 
heavy, I don't see how it's to be done." 

"'But you must see. It's cruel to have him lie 
there and suffer when he could be so comfortable 
with us. We must move him to-day and you 
must fmd the way!" 

"Fll do the best I can, but you mus' give me 
time to tink! You are alius in a drefful hurry. 
Miss Betty. You kinder scares me." So say- 
ing he seated himself upon a bowlder, clasped his 
liead with both hands, and was apparently buried 
deep in reflection. 

Ho did not keep her waiting long. "Miss 
Betty," he exclaimed, "I's got it — I's got it! 
But we mus' not move him to-day. Dem As- 
burys is a-watchin'. They has been four or five 
tramps hazin' round here and dey specks some- 
thing. Up in the garret of the mill there is an 



REMOVAL AND CONCEALMENT. 103 

old stretcher ; dey carried stones and bricks on it. 
I knows I kin find it. You wait till night, put 
his mattress an' comforter on it, Ginny an' I will 
carry one end, Peter an' some other darky will 
take the other, an' we'll carry him right over 
to your house!" 

She recognized the wisdom of waiting until 
evening, and Dick was directed to prepare the 
stretcher and engage the carriers. The only op- 
position came from Bedell. He would not, he 
said, helpless hulk that he was, be carried into 
her house to turn it into a hospital. He was 
grateful enough to her, Heaven knew, but this 
was too much. He was beginning to have some 
hope — he was getting stronger. She must let 
him fight out the battle where he was, alone. 

"Lieutenant," said the determined woman, 
"you are not going to waste your strength nor 
my time. I am stronger than you are and my 
three servants will help me. You are going over 
to my house to-night, and your objections will 
not weigh a feather's weight. You are a sick 
man — you don't know what is best for you. I 
do ! Here comes Ginny with your coffee and a 
ration of canned beef. That is good for you be- 
yond any controversy ! Now be good and obedi- 
ent and obey your nurse!" 

Bedell was silenced. He obeyed. That night 
the old stretcher was brought, the heavy man 
was laid upon it, and three colored men and 



104 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

Ginny carried him gently down the stairs out 
under the open sky. It was raining. The Vir- 
ginia woman protected the Union officer from the 
rain with her umbrella — the procession moved 
slowly, though safely, across the fields to her 
home. 

Mrs. Van Metre had asked him whether he had 
not been refreshed by the sponge -bath given him 
by Dr. Osborne, and he had responded with great 
enthusiasm. She thereupon directed Dick and 
Ginny, in spite of his remonstrances, to repeat 
the process. After it was completed he was placed 
in a broad, soft bed in a pleasantly furnished 
apartment, whicli he afterward learned was the 
room of his hostess, which she had surrendered for 
his use. Then she gave him a cooling, quieting 
draught, prepared by the doctor, which seemed 
to take away from him all disposition to resist, 
and he slept. 

His hostess was as much relieved from anxiety 
as himself. He was removed without the knowl- 
edge of any one but herself and her trusted ser- 
vants. Tramps and guerillas would scarcely 
suspect his presence in her own room. She 
might reasonably hope that he would be permitted 
to travel the road to convalescence and recovery 
without interference or interruption. However, 
his greatest danger lay in the possibility of dis- 
covery, and to prevent that should be the study of 
her j^resent life. 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE DREAM WHICH WAS NOT ALL A DREAM. 

The journey to Harper's Ferry, the anxiety 
and excitement, which were constant until the 
wounded man was safe under her own roof, would 
have worn out any one who was not sustained by 
a strong sense of duty. Mas. Vsn Metre had de- 
termined to nurse him through that first night in 
his new quarters and had dismissed her colored 
assistants to their homes. When she saw how 
peacefully her patient was sleejDing, she experi- 
enced a strong desire herself for a similar rest. 
She extinguished all the lights, dropped upon a 
lounge, threw a shawl over herself, and was soon 
sleeping as refreshingly as her charge. 

Both slept far into the long autumn night. The 
lieutenant first awoke. His slight movement 
showed him that his nurse was at her post of 
duty. 

"Do you want anything?" she asked as she 
started to relight the lamps. 

"Please do not strike a light," he said. 
" Leave the room as it is. I wish to tell you 
something. If I saw your face I might not have 

105 



lOG AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

the courage to tell you what I wish to say. Will 
you kindly sit where I can feel your presence?" 

She seated herself by his bedside and took his 
unwounded hand. She waited some time ia si- 
lence and then asked : 

"What was it that you wished to say?" 

"Mrs. Van Metre," he said in a low but very 
firm voice, "I have seen your husband to night." 

She was startled. She thought he had sud- 
denly been stricken with insanity. "How did 
you know that I had a husband?" she asked. 

"I do not know unless I dreamed it," he said, 
and again relapsed into silence. 

"Tell me the story," she said. "There is no 
one to hear it but ourselves." 

"It was a dream," he said. "I know it was a 
dream. There is no truth in dreams. It is absurd 
to tell them, yet this one was fearfully real. 
You will not think me light-headed or that I 
have lost my senses?" 

"Indeed I will not. You excite my curiosity. 
I should much like to hear it. I am curious to 
learn how you came to know about my husband. 
These dreams have sometimes proved prophetic." 

"If I shall not earn your contemjDt I will tell 
you the whole story. I fear my sleep has weak- 
ened me, and I may never be stronger." 

" Tell it in 3^our own way. We can discuss it 
afterward." 

"This was the way of it. I was in that liorri- 



THE DREAM WHICH WAS NOT A DREAM. 107 

ble room where you found me and I was dying 
of thirst and starvation. What I wanted more 
than anything else was to write my name, regi- 
ment, the date of my death, and the place where 
I was to be buried. I wanted my wife and friends 
to know where I lay. It appeared that I had 
already suffered all that mortal man could suffer 
and live. With great pains I had found a pencil 
and a piece of board upon which I was trying to 
write my name. The Asburys had been watch- 
ing me with hungry eyes. They seized the board 
and tore it from me. In the struggle I lost con- 
sciousness. 

''Then I was restored far enough to know that 
some one gave me a refreshing drink. In an 
instant I was another being — all my pains, cares, 
anxieties had vanished. I was as light as air. 
By a gentle spring with my one limb I could 
ascend indefinitely — to the heavens if I wished. 
I was supremely happy. I pitied those who were 
tied down to this dull, senseless earth. Distance 
was nothing to me. A wish transported me any- 
where I chose to go. I wanted to see my home. 
By a graceful series of ascents and descents, like 
travelling over a rolling country, I was there. 
My children were hanging on my neck, my wife 
was embracing me and saying: 'It was cruel of 
you, Henry, not to write us for all these long 
weeks when we were mourning you as dead, and 
then come upon us so suddenly. Your own colonel 



108 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

reported you as mortally wounded and then as 
dead, and we never expected to see you again. ' 

" 'I have been wounded and very near to death, ' 
I said. 'Do you not see that it is only a part of 
your husband who has come back to you? But 
for a woman as good and true as yourself I should 
have died as awful a death as you could imagine, 
and you never would have known where I was 
buried.' Then I told her all about you — how 
energetic and kind you had been, and how you had 
saved my life when you were in great trouble 
yourself. I told her of your anxiety about your 
husband, who was a prisoner if he was alive, and 
that you sometimes feared he was not living, and 
that I owed you such a debt of gratitude that I 
ought to find your husband and get him released 
if he was in prison, for you had saved me and 
given me back to her. ' God bless her ! ' exclaimed 
my wife. 'Our children shall be taught to love 
her and I will never make a prayer that does not 
invoke blessings on her head.' Then we went 
into our children's room, and I heard them talk- 
ing in their sleep of their father. 

"My wife was suddenly startled. I had tried 
already to call her attention to my crippled con- 
dition, but her mind was so full of joy that she 
did not notice what I said. Now she saw my 
defect. 'Why, Henry,' she exclaimed, 'you have 
lost a part of yourself!' 

'"You were too proud of the strength and 



THE DREAM WHICH WAS NOT A DREAM. 109 

activity of your husband. So was I. It was 
necessary that our pride should have a fall. I 
have lost my leg, but as I said before I have 
gained the friendship of a woman who is as 
noble and good and kind as yourself. Could I say 
more of any woman?' 

"Just here comes in the remarkable part of 
my dream, You must think me foolish for re- 
lating it to you. But it did seem so real!" 

"Indeed, you misjudge me," said his auditor. 
"Your strange vision interests me. Perhaps I 
will tell you how deeply when you have finished. 
I should be sorry if you did not give me the whole 
of the story." 

"My dear wife whispered in my ear that she 
feared I had been ungrateful. 'I am strangely 
drawn toward that woman,' she said. 'Think 
how great a debt we owe her! What is her 
name ? Where did you leave her ? Is she happy ? 
She cannot possibly be contented not knowing 
the fate of her husband. It would be hard for 
us to part with you again, but we would do it 
for you to go back to her and help her find her 
husband. ' 

" 'You recall me to my duty,' I said. 'I 
do not know why I left her. She is in trouble. 
Nothing but the sorrow that strains the heart to 
the point of breaking could have impressed the 
sadness which was in her face when I last saw it. 
I deserve to be punished for leaving her. I have 



110 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

been ungrateful, I will go back to lier and do 
what I can to repair my error. ' 

"I remember that my wife stood before me, 
and I thought I never saw a woman with a more 
noble expression upon her face. 'Henry,' she 
said, 'I have been very proud of you. But if you 
can rest until you have either aided that woman 
to find her husband or to ascertain that he is no 
longer living, you are not the man I married — 
you are no husband of mine ! ' 

" Then, as if a curtain had been let down from 
the sky before me, I seemed to be shut out from 
my wife and my home. Next, by one of those 
mysterious changes which I cannot even try to 
explain, I was in a camp of many thousand Con- 
federate prisoners — soldiers of the Southern army. 
There v/as a long building of one storv over 
which floated a hospital flag. Near it, shaded by 
large trees, were tents in which very sick men 
lay. In one of them there was only a single 
patient. He lay upon a cot, to which he had 
just been brought. He was dreadfully emaci- 
ated. His head had just been shaved, his body 
had been washed, and as he lay upon his back, 
his hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and ashen face 
showed that he had been a great sufferer, proba- 
bly from a long fever. He could only speak in 
whispers. An old gray-haired general with a 
benignant face, a lady young enough to be his 
daughter, a surgeon, and an old colored man 



THE DREAM WHICH WAS NOT A DREAM. Ill 

stood around the sick man. The lady had turned 
her face away from the sufferer ; her breast was 
swelling with emotion and her gentle eyes were 
filled with tears. 

"In a corner of the tent stood another person. 
He had a fawning, treacherous, hang-dog look. 
I have no words adequate to describe the villa- 
nous meanness of his appearance or expression. 
A soldier stood beside him who appeared to be 
his guard. 

'"What do you make of his case, doctor?' I 
heard the general ask. 

" ' It is a case of brain fever complicated with 
the most inexcusable negligence and I fear with 
violence. Look at his wrists — they carry the 
marks of manacles which have worn away the 
skin.' 

" 'He was very violent, sir. He was dangerous. 
He tried to kill me. We had to restrain him or 
he would have killed us all, ' whined the wretch 
who stood by the soldier. 

" ' Silence, you villain ! Not another word 
from your lying lips!' said the general, with a 
most righteous ring to his voice. Then I saw 
that the man addressed was a rat-mouthed, 
ferret-eyed caitiff in the dress of a nurse or hos- 
pital attendant. He seemed crushed by the 
words of the general. 

'"Can you save the poor man's life?' asked 
the general of the surgeon. 



112 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

"'I do not know — I cannot answer now. His 
case is very doubtful. The fever is still upon 
him. We have been very gentle in our treat- 
ment of him. If he does not sink under it I shall 
have some hope. It was most fortunate that 
your daughter found him this morning. Another 
access of his fever would inevitably have been 
fatal. ' 

"'Was it not cruel to shave his head in that 
manner? Why was it necessary, doctor'?' in- 
quired the sweet voice of the lady, 

'"The answer is scarcely fitting for a lady's 
ear,' replied the surgeon. 'It was not only nec- 
essary, it was indispensable. He would other- 
wise have been devoured by vermin!' 

"'He wouldn't let me do anything. He 
wouldn't take anything from me,' began the 
wretch, 

'"I tell you silence!' thundered the general. 
He called in a sergeant and a file of men, 'Take 
that man, ' he said, pointing to the miserable crea- 
ture who had just spoken, 'to the guard-house. 
Put him in irons. Give him bread and water 
only. If this poor prisoner dies his life shall 
pay the forfeit, if I take it with my own hands. ' 

" Then the sufferer on the cot made an effort 
to speak. We could all hear him, for there was 
no sound to break the silence but the sighs of 
the compassionate woman. ' Will some one write 
to my wife in the valley,' he said, 'and tell her 



THE DREAM WHICH Vv^AS NOT A DREAM. 113 

where I am? I know that my letters have been 
suppressed. She has not heard from me for 
many weeks. She must think I am dead !' 

'"What is the name and ijost-office address of 
your wife?' asked the general. 

" ' Her name is Betty Van Metre and she lives 
in Berryville, in the valley,' said the sick man. 

"I had hitherto said not a word. But when I 
heard your name and knew that the patient was 
your husband I could not restrain myself. 'What 
is the name of this place?' I asked. 'Gentlemen, 
I know this man's wife. Tell me the name of 
this place, and she shall be here as quick as 
steam and the railroad can bring her. I owe my 
hfe to Mrs. Van Metre!' 

" All except the lady stared at me as if I was 
an impertinent intruder. The general demanded 
by what right I thrust myself into their councils 
IH' a matter which did not concern me. 

" I tried to remonstrate. I told them that if 
they knew how much I owed to you they would 
not stand upon ceremony. I said, 'For the sake 
of that poor sick man, for mine — as you hope for 
blessings here and for mercy hereafter, tell me the 
name of this place, and I will thank you on my 
knees. ' " 

"Did you learn the name of the place?" 

"Alas! no. The earnestness of my appeal — 
my intense anxiety awoke me. The vision passed 
and I heard your voice almost at my side." 



114 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

"Are you quite certain that the man who lay 
upon the cot gave my name?" 

"As certain as that I now hear your voice." 

" Would you recognize the face of the sick man 
if you saw it in a picture?" 

"I think so — I have no doubt I should." 

Mrs. Van Metre controlled her feelings more 
perfectly than the wounded officer. "I heard in 
May last," she said, "that my husband had been 
captured a second time near Spottsylvania Court 
House. Up to that time he had been a faithful 
correspondent. Since then I have heard nothing 
from him. I cannot understand his silence. I 
think I should have died of grief if I had not 
kept my mind employed. Your vision, as you 
call it, at least suggests the chance that he may 
be alive. I had almost lost hope in these days of 
weary suspense and waiting." 

" Your husband is alive. He is in good hands 
now, although he has been a sufferer from some 
treachery. You will see him again. 1 wanted 
to live before for my countr}^, children, and my 
wife. 1 have now another reason, for if I live I 
will find your husband and give him back to you !" 

Mrs. Van Metre now drew the curtains, for the 
sun was already reddening the crest of the east- 
ern Blue Ridge. She took from a drawer a pho- 
tograph album containing a number of por- 
traits. She held it before his eyes and began to 
turn the leaves. At the second portrait he said : 



THE DREAM WHICH WAS NOT A DREAM. 115 

" Stop ! That is the face of the man I saw last 
night on the cot in the hospital tent. He was 
not stalwart and vigorous as he appears here, but 
it is the same face, worn and wasted by fever 
and exposure." 

"That picture," said Mrs. Van Metre, "is the 
last photograph of my husband." 

There was silence in the room during the long 
morning twilight while the darkness of the night 
was slowly changing to the bright light of day. 
"I am sincerely grateful for your interest," she 
said, "but you are excited now, and in your 
weak condition excitement is dangerous. It is 
very singular that the events of the last few days 
should have so multiplied your chances of re- 
covery and so filled my heart with confidence 
and hope. It is said that dreams are only base- 
less imaginations. That may be true. Neverthe- 
less yours has been very comforting, a healing 
balm for at least one wounded heart. A very 
great and good man, troubled as we have been, 
had his life changed by a supernatural revelation. 
Standing before a great king, he declared that 'he 
was not disobedient to the heavenly vision. ' It 
will make me stronger, a more hopeful wife, and 
a more earnest woman to believe that my husband 
lives and that through you I may yet see his face. " 



CHAPTER XIII. 

THE BATTLE OF OPEQUAN OR WINCHESTER — THE 
PROGRESS OF THE WOUNDED OFFICER — THE 
SKILL AND ENTERPRISE OF HIS HOSTESS. 

Hopeless, in bis desolate room, waiting for 
death, Bedell had heard the guns of Sheridan's 
first great battle in the valley. It was fought 
on the 19tb of September. The Unionists call 
it the battle of the Opequan ; the Confederates, 
with more propriety, the battle of Winchester. 
No part of the battle was fought upon the river; 
the heaviest fighting was within sight of the 
spires of Winchester. 

Although bedell had no knowledge of it at the 
time, Getty's division of the Sixth Corps, to which 
the Vermont brigade was attached, with the First 
Division under the gallant Russell, on the ISth of 
September was again encamped for the night 
at Claremont, near the deserted house where he 
lay. In the early morning, before the army 
moved. General Russell had presented to Colonel 
Luke, the owner of Claremont, his favorite mare. 
She had been wounded, and her master left her, 
under Colonel Luke's promise that she should be 
' 116 



THE BATTLE OF OPEQUAN OR WINCHESTER, 117 

cured and cared for. "A few hours afterward," 
said Colonel Luke to the writer, "her brave 
owner lay dead upon the field, but the descend- 
ants of his favorite mare have ever since been 
celebrated as the best -tempered and most admi- 
rable horses ever bred in the valley." Had the 
officers of the Vermont brigade known that 
Bedell was living and where he was, he would 
have had many friendly visitors. 

The main body of the Union army struck the 
road from Berryville to Winchester, followed it 
about five miles, and crossed the river at the ford. 
They followed the road through a wooded ravine 
called Ash Eun, the scene of much bloody bush- 
whacking, for about two miles, constantly ex- 
pecting to meet the enemy. As they filed out of 
the ravine into the open country, on a hill to the 
northward of the road they saw Sheridan with 
his staff and knew that the battle was to be 
fought under his eye and command. With a 
cheer Getty's division formed its line of battle 
across the road, its left, held by the Vermonters, 
resting upon Abraham Creek, a stream running 
nearly parallel to the road to its mouth just 
south of the Opequan ford. Other divisions 
formed on their right, extending far north of the 
road, the Sixth Vermont being sent forward as 
skirmishers. The line being thus formed, the 
advance commenced. 

The main body of the Confederate army was at 



118 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

Stephenson's Depot, on the raih'oad about five 
miles north of Winchester. General Early and 
his staff were on a hill north of the Berryville 
road and within a mile of Winchester. As soon 
as he discovered the Union line, he sent aid after 
aid to hasten his army. In order to give the 
cavalry under Crook, Averill, and Merritt time to 
get into their desired position, the Sixth Corps 
was halted for two or three anxious hours and 
stood apparently waiting while Early's army was 
coming up. Ramseur and Gordon's divisions of 
the Confederate army arrived, crossed the road, 
and confronted the extreme left of the Union 
line. Fitzhugh Lee's artillery took its position 
in a wood north of the Berryville road. 

The Union advance then commenced. It was 
over a rolling country in which there were some 
woods and very deep ravines. It is not our pur- 
pose to describe this advance. It is enough to 
say that it was not only against a fierce fire 
directly in front, but Lee's artillery from the 
wood north of the road enfiladed the Union line 
as it slowly moved forward. The slaughter was 
terrible, but nothing could arrest the steady for- 
ward movement of the Sixth Corps. They were 
fighting under the eye of Sheridan. They knew 
that they had not been held back, that they were 
not subjected to that murderous fire without a 
purpose. So they moved steadily forward down 
into the ravines, up their rocky sides, with ranks 



THE BATTLE OP OPEQUAN OK WINCHESTER. 119 

thinning at every step, until they had forced the 
enemy back to within a mile of Winchester. 

There had been checks in this advance — once 
or twice the line had been broken and a part of 
it had been forced back. But it was re-formed 
and finally General Wright put all his reserves 
into the battle. The Sixth and the Nineteenth 
Corps now moved on, driving the enemy, captur- 
ing many prisoners, and finally overcoming every- 
thing in its front and clearing its part of the 
battle-field. 

Now the result of Sheridan's combinations be- 
gan to be apparent. Crook's cavalry, together 
with that of Averill and Merritt, had made a long 
detour to the northward and had finally got into 
position. Then it was that Sheridan rode along 
the whole line of battle of the Sixth Corps, in the 
midst of the storm of bullets, shouting as he 
passed each brigade, " Crook and Averill are on 
their left and rear, and by Heaven we've got them 
bagged !" 

A member of General Early's staff who stood 
with the writer on a slight elevation just north 
of the Berry ville road, almost thirty years after- 
ward, gave the Confederate view of the closing 
moments of the battle. "From the top of this 
hill," he said, "General Early had given his 
orders during the day. From this hill aid after 
aid had been sent to hurry forward the troops 
from Stephenson's Depot, and yonder," pointing 



120 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

to an elevation on the east side of the road, "is 
where Gordon and Eamseur first formed their 
Hne, From yonder wood Fitz Lee enfiladed the 
Union lines with his artillery, inflicting heavy 
losses upon them. Farther east in another wood 
was a Federal battery. They fired upon us uniil 
they got our range, and their shells came so close 
that we had to retire to the west side of the hill. 
All through the long day our lines had stood firm 
and unbroken. We had begun to hope that they 
could not be broken by the Federal force. But 
suddenly over yonder hill, far beyond our left 
and in our rear, came a large body of cavalry. 
Before it our lines seemed to melt away and sink 
into the earth. It was a heart-sickening specta- 
cle to us. The cavalry moved on at a slow gallop, 
but the disappearance of our line moved with 
greater speed. It was not checked until it reached 
Kamseur's division, on our extreme right. That 
division retired, without breaking, around the 
easterly side of Winchester into the pike beyond. 
The remainder of our army, broken and disor- 
ganized, fled through the streets of the old town, 
pursued and many of them captured by j^our 
cavalry. The pursuit was continued to Kerns- 
town, three miles beyond. There, after sunset, 
Eamseur made a stand and gave his pursuers a 
volley. They inferred that we had been met by 
a reinforcement and the pursuit was over." 
The result of the battle of Winchester and that 



THE BATTLE OF OPEQUAN OR WINCHESTER. 131 

of Fisher's Hill, only two days later, turned the 
route of the Union army away from Berryville, 
and the Confederates being still farther south, 
this part of Clarke County was left to the rule 
of the strongest. Camp-followers, bounty- jump- 
ers, and tramps of the lowest species swarmed 
over the region like an Egyptian plague. How 
that solitary woman managed to suppress the fact 
that a Union soldier was recovering from his 
wounds in her house must always remain a mys- 
tery. Except that it was very slow, there was 
nothing very unusual in BedelFs progress toward 
convalescence, but many days elapsed before he 
could move about the room with improvised 
crutches on his remaining leg. Seldom did a 
day pass when Mrs. Van Metre's house was not 
visited by one or more of the wandering vaga- 
bonds. Bedell was in her own room. She took 
good care to let every lawless visitor know that 
it was her room, and those who had any decency 
kept out of it. But if they insisted ujDon enter- 
ing it, she was not at the end of her resources. 
There was a door into a dark room in the mill. 
Sometimes the jDatient was bundled into that 
room. Sometimes she boldly threw open the 
door and told them to enter and insult the privacy 
of an undefended woman if they would. They 
had never yet done so, for they were too cowardly 
to brave her indignation. 

The patient did not suffer now for want of the 



122 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

best nursing. Dick and Ginny his wife and 
Peter Dennis had faithful hearts under their 
black skins, and the attention of Dr. Osborne 
was unremitting. He was now supplied with 
strengthening food and proper medicines. The 
journey to Harper's Ferry was made once every 
week. The old horse improved in his strength 
and paces, and his appearance on the road had 
become so common that it ceased to attract the 
attention of those who lived along the turnpike. 

But the cautious woman did not relax her 
vigilance. She knew that except those who were 
exempted from the draft by age, the men who 
remained at home were equally destitute of honor 
and humanity. It would be a congenial work 
for one of these miscreants to inform the criminals 
living in their mountain dens of her journey 
and of the time of her return with her supplies, 
and thus furnish them with an opportunity to 
rob a woman. Once only was she interfered 
with in this manner. It was not unusual for 
these wretches to lie in wait for the traveller. 
Ash Run and other ravines had become so noto- 
rious that no one passed them except under the 
protection of a guard. An accomplice in the 
town had informed one of these parties of her 
journeys to Harper's Ferry and her return with 
supplies. The fact that she was a woman, which 
would have secured her immunity from every 
decent thief, was only an additional inducement 



PROGRESS OP THE WOUNDED OFFICER. 133 

for these rascals, because they could rob a woman 
with less risk than a man. There were four of 
them who on one occasion lay in wait for her. 
It was in a wood through which the turnpike 
passed, nearly a mile from the nearest house. 
But they had not counted upon any resistance. 
Her escort was a factor neglected in their prepa- 
rations. They had halted the old horse. They 
had dismounted, left their horses in the wood, 
and now two on each side of the wagon were en- 
deavoring to persuade the driver to ransom her 
horse and wagon by a peaceful surrender of the 
contents of the latter. There was a sudden rush- 
ing sound like the coming of a furious storm ; 
there was a gleam of steel in the moonlight — the 
sickening sound of cutting edges upon living flesh, 
and when the storm had swept past, the four 
thieves lay wounded upon the roadside. Their 
wounds were not mortal, but they were desper- 
ately painful and effectually disabled every one 
of the robbers. The old horse jogged onward to 
his destination, and the attack upon his driver 
was never renewed. 

There was only one ground of suspicion, on the 
part of the agents of the Sanitary Commission at 
Harper's Ferry, of the good faith of Mrs. Van 
Metre's weekly requisition. It was tlie extraor- 
dinary quantity of whiskey required for the con- 
sumption of the invalid. Her explanation, how- 
ever, was very satisfactory. There were a number 



124 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

of old men in the neighborhood not inckided in 
the drastic terms of the Confederate draft. It 
was impossible to conceal from these patriarchs 
the fact that a Confederate woman was nursing 
a wounded Union officer who was attended by the 
country doctor. But every one of them was 
amenable to the seductive influence of good 
whiskey, whicli some of them had not tasted 
since the beginning of the war. The promise of 
the weekly ration secured the silence of every 
one of these venerable gossips, and under the in- 
fluence of such a beverage as they had not tasted 
since the peaceful ante-bellum days they were 
easily convinced that such a shattered wreck 
as the lieutenant could not greatly imperil the 
Confederacy. The use of old Bourbon for these 
diplomatic purposes was recognized as a political 
necessity ; the secret was kept, and the draft of 
Mrs. Van Metre was good for anything contained 
in the Sanitary treasury. 

The strength of the wounded officer soon re- 
turned to such an extent that he was able to 
dictate a letter, which his willing amanuensis 
committed to paper; and it was not the less 
precious to her who received it because of the 
illegible scrawl which stood for his name, the 
best he could make with his stump of a hand. It 
was duly directed and on one of Mrs. Van Metre's 
journeys posted. In due time she carried back to 
her patient a bulky letter in a beloved hand writ- 



PROGRESS OF THE WOUNDED OFFICER. 125 

ing, postmarked among the Green Mountains. 
She opened it, handed its sheets successively to her 
patient, and listened while he read. The tender 
confidences between husband and wife under 
such circumstances are not for the eye of the 
public. The letter told of the health, comfort, 
and hope of his wife and children — his happiness 
was so supreme that for a moment his nurse forgot 
her own sorrow and her triumph was complete. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

THE BATTLE-FIELDS OF AYINCHESTER — THE SEARCH 
FOR A FORGOTTEN GRAVE — AN ACT TO BE 
HONORED BY BRAVE SOLDIERS AND EMULATED 
BY TRUE WOMEN. 

The spires of the old town of Winchester have 
overlooked some tragic scenes. The visitor of 
to-day will find a quiet city of moderate size pre- 
senting no features of general interest, in which 
men buy and sell and get gain much the same as 
in other peaceful communities. But in one of 
its shaded suburbs there is a cemetery in which 
rest over five thousand Confederate dead. Many 
graves have neat white marble slabs upon which 
are inscribed the names and regiments of each 
silent tenant. And there is one very noble 
monument. On its base is recorded the fact that 
beneath it are buried over eight hundred and 
seventy unidentified soldiers of the Confederacy. 
This city of the dead is not neglected. It is in- 
closed within an artistic fence of iron, the gift 
of Charles Broadway Rouss, a former citizen of 
Winchester. 

Adjoining it on the north side is the Union 
126 



THE BATTLE-FIELDS OF WINCHESTER. 127 

cemetery with its more than five thousand dead. 
Here too is a noble monument to more than 
twenty-seven hundred unidentified Union soldiers. 
This greater number of the unknown is said to be 
due to the fact that the Union forces were stran- 
gers from the North, while many of the Confeder- 
ates were residents of the valley. 

These ten thousand lives were the harvest of 
death in the battle-fields of two campaigns in 
this immediate vicinity. How sad the story 
which these two monuments tell ! Every one of 
these soldiers had a home — maiiy of them wives 
and children, mourners for their dear ones, long 
awaited but never to return. Yet this abundant 
harvest of death was from small battle-fields 
compared with Antietam, Gettysburg, or the 
Wilderness, each of which was more fruitful in 
the casualties of war. 

How many acts of heroism worthy of historical 
record were performed within sight of old Win- 
chester ! Here, just east of the turnpike which 
leads to Martinsburg, was the bloody battle of 
July 20th, 1863, when the Union forces coming 
from Stephenson met the Confederate army, and 
after a desperate fight forced it back through 
the city and then held both city and field. There 
was hard and weary work for the Federal sur- 
geons, with their own and their enemy's wounded. 
When on that moonlit night the women of Win- 
chester came out as volunteer nurses, they were 



138 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

glad to receive them and gave them enough to 
do. It was under yonder great oak that Miss 
TilHe Russell found the frightfully wounded boy, 
his chest deluged with his blood, his face pale, 
his body writhing in an agony of pain all the 
more intense from his constrained position. She 
raised his head from the ground into her lap and 
supported it by her arm. The movement gave 
instant relief to his pain and he fell asleep. But 
when she sought to change her position his agony 
returned. She called a surgeon and explained the 
situation. " His sleep may save his life," said the 
surgeon. "It is the only thing that will." She 
made no farther complaint. She was willing to 
suffer to save him. Through the long hours of 
the dreary night she sat motionless holding the 
boy's head in her arms. Her friends had returned 
to the town. She was alone among the dead — her 
arm was almost broken by the weight upon it. 
But there she sat while the boy slept all through 
the dreary hours of night until the morning. 
And his life was saved — he is to-day an honored 
citizen of the valley. The heroine deserves some 
better recognition than she has hitherto received. 
Fourteen months later, from this hill General 
Early hurried up the divisions of Rodes and 
Gordon from Stephenson to meet the Union lines 
formed from Abraham's Creek across the Berry- 
ville road, and on yonder field they faced each 
other during that long September day. On our 




Lieut, Bedell 



130 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

the valley through Harrisonburg to the vicinity 
of Front Eoyal ; then by a rapid march through 
Newtown and Middletown it rejoined Sheridan 
near Martinsburg, where the whole force re- 
mained until shortly before the 19th of October, 
During this time the army of General Early was 
kept south of the Union forces. 

By following these movements on the map, it 
will be seen that for a month after the battle of 
Winchester there was no Union or Confederate 
force in the vicinity of Berryville, if the small 
body of irregular cavalry under Mosby is excepted. 
Mosby had, as he claimed by way of retaliation, 
executed Union soldiers, because he said that 
Custer had hung some of his men, claiming tliat 
they were not a part of the Confederate army. 
Mosby did not otherwise violate the laws of war. 

This month was the harvest of the bush- 
whackers and bounty-jumj)ers in Clarke County. 
They came down from the mountains, where they 
carried on their single industry of illicit distilla- 
tion, and robbed the dwellings of the living and 
the graves of the dead. No road was safe from 
them. Ash Eun and other ravines were the 
scenes of daily assassination. 

Notwithstanding these perils of the road, Mrs. 
Van Metre did not omit her weekly trips to Har- 
per's Ferry. Upon one of them she learned that 
one of the Union officers who had protected her 
property and eaten at her table had fallen in the 



THE BATTLE-FIELDS OP WINCHESTER, 131 

battle of Winchester. He had earned her grati- 
tude by gentle and courteous treatment, and now 
when she heard that he lay in a nameless grave 
on the field where he had fallen, she instantly 
resolved that his resting-place should no longer 
be forgotten and unknown if she could find and 
place a stone over it. The search would be diffi- 
cult ; no one knew the pit or ditch where he lay, 
and there was even a discouraging rumor that 
his body had been robbed of his uniform and 
buried without any indication of his rank or 
name. 

Except Dick Runner and Peter Dennis, whose 
color permitted them to be humane, she had no 
one to assist her in her care for her patient. She 
must therefore take up the search for the officer's 
grave alone or aided only by one of these colored 
men, while the other was left in charge of the 
house. She took Dick Runner into her confi- 
dence. The next day and for several subsequent 
days she left her home, with the old horse and 
rickety wagon, in the early morning, and did not 
return until evening. She was sad and weary, 
but not discouraged. What was she doing? 
The answer should be inscribed in letters of gold 
on a monument more lasting than granite. For 
this young Virginia matron, hearing the burden 
of her own sorrow, nursing a wounded man back 
to life, still found the time and energy to search 
all over that broad battle-field, day after day, for 



132 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

the grave of a comparative stranger. The search 
was long — many would have abandoned it. But 
Heaven would not permit such energy to fail of 
success. After many days she found the grave 
she sought. A board had been driven into the 
earth at its head on which she was just able to de- 
cipher the name of her casual acquaintance. But 
the inscription was almost obliterated. A few 
more storms and it would have been illegible, and 
the officer would have slept forever among the 
unknown dead. 

What she saw would have repelled and turned 
away any man or woman whose' heart was not 
brave and true. The thin covering of earth which 
had been hastily thrown over the uncoffined body 
had been washed away by the rains of autumn ; 
the limbs and portions of the brave man's body 
were already exposed, for the dogs to gnaw, the 
carrion birds to peck at, and the foxes to mangle. 
Willingly did Dick Eunner, in tender memory of 
"de young genTman," guard his body through 
the night and until his watch was relieved next 
day. At her own cost, out of her slender purse 
she paid for a decent coffin, hired two laborers 
to disinter the remains, to place them in the 
coffin, remove them to Winchester, and there, 
with the silent prayer of at least one mourner, to 
inter them in the Union cemetery. She placed a 
suitable stone at their head for their permanent 
identification. 



THE BATTLE-FIELDS OF WINCHESTER. 133 

Such conduct cannot fail to receive the com- 
mendation of all right-minded men and good 
women. The account is imperfect unless the 
final result or Mrs. Van Metre's reward is given. 
I will state it in the words of Colonel Walker in 
his " Vermont Brigade in the Shenandoah Valley, " 
published in 1869: 

"Then she addressed a letter to his friends^ 
giving them the information which she possessed, 
and they subsequently recovered the remains, 
thanking God and their unknown benefactor." 
It is to be fervently hoped that they did not fail 
to acknowledge and reward her heroic conduct as 
she deserved. 



CHAPTER XV. 

A SIDE VIEW OF THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK, 
WITH "SHERIDAN TWENTY MILES AWAY." 

The wounded lieutenant by the middle of 
October was on the high-road to recovery. The 
f"/'thful service of the country doctor, supplies 
from Harper's Ferry, and careful nursing were 
doing their efficient work. The longest pair of 
crutches which the stores of the Sanitary Com- 
mission could furnish were ingeniously length- 
ened by Peter Dennis, and enabled Bedell to de- 
monstrate that the loss of his leg had not deprived 
him of the power of locomotion. He was inclined 
to test it by more frequent exercise in the open 
air than was consistent with his personal safety. 
The tramp- thieves were more numerous than 
ever. They infested the region and had entered 
Mrs. Van Metre's house a dozen times a day. 
To exclude them would excite their suspicions 
and their cupidity, and they were too powerful 
to be resisted. They were given free access to 
every room in the house; nothing apparently 
was concealed from them, and they were finally 
satisfied to desist from despoiling a lonely woman 

134 



THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 135 

who had nothing useful to them of which she 
might be robbed. How she evaded their vigi- 
lance and allayed their suspicions is simply in- 
explicable. 

Bedell now began to suffer from another want. 
Almost six weeks had passed since he was 
wounded. He had no clothing except that which 
was on his person when he fell. His nurse had 
managed to provide him with some undergar- 
ments much too small for him, and Ginny had dis- 
played great ingenuity in washing and changing 
them while he slept. But now that he wanted to 
dress himself and take more exercise in the open 
air, he felt intensely the want of a complete change 
of clothing which was not saturated with his 
blood. His natural habits of cleanliness intensi- 
fied this desire, and made him almost reckless in 
his determination to have a new suit of undress 
uniform or its substitute. 

Again with excellent judgment his preserver 
considered the situation, decided that he must 
have his change of clothing, and that the duty of 
providing it was cast upon herself. About twenty 
miles up the valley, where Cedar Creek winds 
around the base of "Three Top " and Masanutten 
Mountains, was the present camp of Sheridan's 
army. With it were supposed to be the baggage- 
wagons of the Vermont brigade. In the wagon 
of the Eleventh Vermont was the lieutenant's 
portmanteau, or, as it was commonly called, his 



13G AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

"gripsack," which contained a complete change 
of clothing and many other articles of which he 
felt the want. He was now becoming strong, he 
was an adept in the art of concealing himself, 
and the three colored persons were perfectly trust- 
worthy. There was no reason why she could not 
as safely leave him for a trip to Cedar Creek as 
for one of her weekly journeys to Harper's Ferry. 
The distance was no greater, and she could go 
and return with the "gripsack" in a single day. 

By practice the lieutenant was able to write 
with his left hand a brief letter or order to the 
colonel or the quartermaster of his regiment for 
the delivery of his clothing to the bearer, and to 
sign it with his name. It was his first commu- 
nication to his regiment since his fall, and the 
letter also explained the change in his handwrit- 
ing and the reason of his absence. Provided 
with this authority, Mrs. A^an Metre again pro- 
visioned her patient against her temporary ab- 
sence; the old horse was harnessed to the old 
wagon, which seemed to grow stronger with use, 
and this time accompanied by Nannie Koontz, 
her young niece, the brave woman at early dawn 
started for the camp at Cedar Creek, not less 
than twenty miles away. 

She reached the camp without misadventure. 
The officer of the picket took her directly to the 
headquarters of General Getty, who commanded 
the division of the Sixth Corps to which the Yer- 



THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 137 

mont brigade was attached. To him she de- 
livered her letter and explained her errand. 
With the speed of the wind the rumor reached 
the regiment that a messenger had arrived from 
Bedell and that he was still living. Men and 
officers of the Eleventh hurried to headquarters 
and, when the rumor was confirmed, demanded 
to see the bearer of the welcome news. Without 
any hesitation she came out from the general's 
tent, and to the crowd that gathered around her 
modestly told her extraordinary story — how and 
where she found Bedell, his neglected condition, 
his danger, and his improvement. Then she ex- 
l^lained her errand and invoked their assistance 
in procuring the clothing for which she had come. 
How she impressed the Vermonters may be gath- 
ered from the account written by their Colonel 
Walker at the time : 

" Our feelings of wonder and admiration were 
most intense as we learned from her simjDle story 
that our favorite who was dead was alive again, 
and felt how much true heroism her modest 
words concealed. She had plainly totally aban- 
doned herself for weeks to the care of a suffering 
enemy, and yet she did not seem to realize that 
she deserved any credit for so doing or that every 
woman would not have done as much. " In short, 
she captured the affectionate interest of the whole 
Vermont brigade. 

The afternoon was drawing on before they 



138 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

would release her from the last of their inquiries. 
Then they had to give her the disappointing in- 
telligence that the baggage-wagon of the Eleventh 
Vermont, of which she was in search, was still at 
Winchester. But they would not permit her to 
think of returning to her home that day. 

They loaded her with the hearty attentions of 
the camp and made many jDrejiarations for her 
return journey. The old horse was well cared 
for; a tent was prepared with two beds for her- 
self and niece to occupy, and everything was done 
to enable them to pass the night in comfort and 
security. 

"Here again," she said to the writer long 
afterward, with the simplicity of a child, "it 
seemed as if the Lord directed me. The beds 
were tempting, we were both weary, but I would 
not permit my niece to remove her clothing nor 
did 1 remove any part of my own. Dressed as 
we were, we lay upon our cots and fell into a re- 
freshing sleep. Just before dawn I was awak- 
ened by the incessant howling of a dog. I was 
dreadfully annoyed and wondered why some one 
did not put a stop to that disagreeable noise. I 
am sorry to say that I wished that dog was 
dead. But his howling continued, and as we could 
neither of us sleep we arose, performed our ablu- 
tions, put on our hats, and waited for daylight. 

"Suddenly there was a shot — another — and 
then the irregular dropping fire which I knew 



THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 13-9 

too well was that of a skirmish-line ! Then the 
curtain of the tent was drawn away and a voice 
said, 'Dress and get ready as soon as you can!' 
At the same moment there was the crash of mus- 
ket-firing only a short distance away. 'We are 
ready noiv,^ I said. The side of the tent was 
drawn away and there stood our horse ready 
harnessed to our wagon. An officer helped us 
into it. He said to an orderly, 'Take this horse 
by the bit, go by a road' (which he described) 'as 
rapidly as you can. It will bring you into the 
Winchester pike. Follow it — stay with these 
ladies until you know that they are out of dan- 
ger. These are General Getty's orders — there 
is an attack along our whole line! Now go!' 
Even as he spoke the sound of the shots almost 
drowned his voice and the shells from a battery 
of artillery began to form their curves over our 
heads." 

Mrs. Van Metre had heard the opening guns 
of the battle of Cedar Creek, of the 19th of Octo- 
ber. Defeated at Winchester, crushed again at 
Fisher's Hill, the indomitable veterans of Stone- 
wall Jackson's corps had retreated up the valley, 
gathered in their stragglers, received some rein- 
forcement, and now had turned upon and attacked 
their pursuers. Sheridan had been summoned to 
Washington for consultation, and on this morn- 
ing of October 19th was at Winchester. Some 
criticism has been expended upon him for leaving 



140 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

his army subject to such an attack, especially as 
a signal to General Early had been taken from 
the Confederate station on Three Top Mountain, 
coming from Longstreet, saying, " Be ready to 
move as soon as my forces join you, and we will 
crush Sheridan." If such a signal was sent, 
Sheridan was right in disregarding it, for the 
writer is assured by Major More, of Early's staff, 
that none of Longstreet 's force joined Early in 
the valley, and none of them were present in the 
battle of Cedar Creek. It may as well be con- 
ceded, for it is certainly true, that this battle 
was a remarkable instance of a defeated army 
recovering itself and with slight reinforcements 
turning ujDon and surprising its victorious enemy. 
No soldier would have anticipated such an at- 
tack, which would have been successful had not 
the plunder of the camp proved too tempting for 
the hungry men by whom it was captured. 

Mrs. Van Metre had left behind her all the 
noise and confusion of a surprise. 

" And there was mounting in hot liaste ; the steed, 
The mustering squadron and the clattering car, 
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, 
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war!" 

The sounds of battle were not hew to her. 
Without obstruction, by a circuitous route which 
took her outside all the camps, she reached the 
turnpike and was able to plan her future move- 
ments. 



THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 141 

What was she to do? She was on the high- 
road to Winchester. From the sound of the 
firing over so broad an area in her rear, she in- 
ferred that the attack was made along the whole 
line of the Union army. If that army was de- 
feated, the turnpike would be its line of retreat 
and would be crowded with fugitives. She was 
familiar with the dangers and terrors of a retreat. 
If she became involved in a herd of panic-stricken 
fugitives, army wagons, and ambulances, escape 
would be almost impossible. If the attack failed 
and Early's army was driven up the valley, the 
road would be crowded with reinforcements hur- 
rying in his pursuit. She could leave the turnpike 
and by taking any one of the cross-roads on her 
right, get outside the crowd and reach her home. 
But then she would not accomplish the object of 
her journey. The clothing of her i)atient was in 
the baggage-wagon of his regiment at Winches- 
ter, to which the turnpike led. To Winchester 
she resolved to go, unless prevented by obstacles 
which she could not overcome. 

The orderly sent to protect her promptly de- 
cided not to neglect the opportunity of escape 
afforded by her conveyance. He took the reins 
and the driver's seat and forced the old horse 
over the rough road at a speed which threatened 
at every step to wreck the old wagon. It was 
fortunate that he did so, for Eamseur, Gordon, 
and Pegram's division of the Confederate army 



142 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

had struck a division of Crook's corps and 
Kitching's division so heavily that they were 
swept away hke leaves before a storm. The 
veterans of these divisions were for the moment 
a terror-stricken mob, that filled the tiirnijike, 
carried away the Eighth Vermont under brave 
Colonel Thomas, placed across the pike to arrest 
their flight, and apparently led the army in a mad 
race for Winchester. 

As the morning drew on Mrs. Van Metre knew 
that the battle had become a defeat. Louder 
and louder swelled the roar of cannon, the rattle 
of musketry, and the din of the conflict behind 
her. Once or twice the pursuit seemed to be 
checked for a moment, then to be resumed with 
the rush of a furious storm. All over the south- 
ern horizon rose the black smoke of battle ; now 
it seemed stationary — now to be coming nearer. 
Her new driver, in spite of her remonstrances, 
lashed the crippled horse into a mad gallop which 
could not long endure, in his effort to keejD in ad- 
vance of the oncoming crowd of fugitives. But 
it was useless: the pursuit was too vigorous. 
She was overtaken, surrounded, overwhelmed by 
horsemen, men on foot, yelling drivers of army 
wagons, from which escape now seemed impos- 
sible. 

Here fortunately she was relieved of the driver. 
He had dashed the conveyance over obstructions 
which sorely tested its strength, and a repetition 



THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 143 

of such experience would wreck it. He now saw 
some better means of escape and promptly de- 
serted the woman he was ordered to protect. 
She took up the reins, and by watching her op- 
portunity turned out of the road and the crowd 
and made her way more slowly across the fields. 

About ten o'clock, as she supposed, there was a 
change. The sounds of the battle no longer 
seemed to advance. The smoke cleared away, 
the rattle of musketry was less continuous, the 
stream of fugitives diminished, the crowd passed 
on and left the turnpike almost clear. Had the 
retreat stopped — the pursuit been checked? She 
determined to take all the chances. If it had, 
she might still reach Winchester and accomplish 
the object of her journey. The turnpike was 
unobstructed, and she turned into it again. 

The moment when she came to this conclusion 
was synchronous with another event which de- 
serves mention. The Sixth Corps, which at the 
first attack had formed in line of battle and, as 
other divisions had been overwhelmed, had fallen 
back about four miles, preserving its forma- 
tion, had now reached the limits of its retreat. 
Wright, as brave a soldier as ever fought, was in 
command. He threw his corps square across the 
pike, and the Nineteenth Corps formed in its 
rear. It became a rock against which the waves 
of retreat dashed in vain. Early's whole army 
from a commanding eminence in front opened 

10 



144 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

upon it with musketry and artillery. They 
pounded Ricketts' division for half an hour, and 
finding that they made no impression, turned to 
the more agreeable work of plundering the Union 
camps. Sheridan had good warrant for saying 
in his report in substance that the Sixth Corps 
was the "only infantry that confronted the enemy 
from the first attack in the morning until the 
battle was decided." 

The crowd of fugitives had disappeared. The 
turnpike was clear. There was not a man, an 
army wagon, or a vehicle upon it. Suddenly 
coming over the next ascent apj)eared a moving 
body. In the advance was a horse, apparently 
without a rider. He was followed by a small 
number of mounted men. All were moving with 
great speed, but the horse in front seemed to be 
gaining on the others. They rushed along the 
pike with the speed of the wind. As they came 
nearer to her, she discovered that the foremost 
horse had a rider, but he lay so close along the 
shoulders and neck of the animal that he seemed 
a part of him. The head of the horse projected 
in a line with his neck, the rider clinging to it as 
if he would reduce the resistance of the air to the 
minimum. The uniform rise and fall of the bodies 
of horse and rider, as regular as a pendulum, the 
effort of both to forereach to the last possible 
inch with every bound, was the perfection of 
horsemanshij), an ideal exhibition of muscular 



THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 145 

action. The rider was a short and rather a 
heavy man who knew that his horse was doing 
his best. For his heels, armed with sharp spurs, 
were turned outward, as if he scorned to touch 
his steed with their points, and his reins lay loose 
upon his horse's neck. The nostrils of the ani- 
mal expanded with every respiration, and the 
white foam from them flecked his flanks or 
spotted the uniform of his rider. Never were 
horse and his master more thoroughly agreed. 
The stride was gigantic. The speed could not 
have been increased if the fate of a nation had 
depended upon it. Mrs. Van Metre turned her 
wagon aside from the travelled part of the road 
to allow the cavalcade to pass. With open 
mouth and powerful respiration, the steed showed 
that he was doing his best. His companions 
used every exertion to equal his pace. But he 
was rapidly gaining and opening the space be- 
tween them. As they swept by the woman and 
her stationary vehicle and rapidly passed from 
her sight, she knew that the battle was on and 
that Sheridan was not many miles away ! 

The noble animal with his invaluable burden 
had not much farther to go. Only two miles 
farther to the south, a brigade of Custer's cavalry 
had now been thrown across the pike to intercept 
the advance of the enemy. Just in their rear 
General Getty's division of the Sixth Corps was 
posted across and at right angles to the turnpike. 
10 



146 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

It was a perfect dam to the current of flee- 
ing men. On their right Taylor's battery 
opened upon their jDursuers. With the check, 
confidence returned, and the fugitives again 
sought the position of their several commands. 
The Sixth Corps, Taylor's Lattery, and Torbert's 
cavalry were already in position — the tide of re- 
treat had been turned when the black steed and 
his rider came into their view, attended with a 
mighty tempest of cheers. He swept along the 
line to the position of General Wright. He saw 
at a glance that the chief of the fighting Sixth 
had already turned the tide of defeat and the 
faces of his men in the opposite direction. "I 
am glad to see you here, general!" was the 
foldierly greeting of General Wright. "By 
Heaven ! I am glad to be here !" was the emphatic 
reply of the man who was now to pluck victory 
from the very jaws of defeat. 

The remainder of the battle of Cedar Creek 
was ujDon a field far in the rear of the emissary 
of the wounded officer. Her way to Winchester 
was now unobstructed. How many men would 
have been brave enough to follow it, with one of 
the great battles of the century raging in his rear, 
which might at any moment again overwhelm 
him in the desperate confusion of a retreat, when 
by a simple change of course he might in a short 
time be outside the danger-line? This woman 
thought only of her errand, which was to re- 



THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 149 

lieve the discomforts of her patient. If she 
turned to the right or left her mission failed. 
She therefore kept straight on, and without meet- 
ing with any farther actual obstruction, about 
one o'clock she reached Winchester. 

In some way, never clearly explained to her, 
she found that her errand had been anticipated. 
Outside the town on the turnpike she was met by 
a soldier who wished to know whether she was 
not in search of the baggage of the Eleventh 
Vermont Eegiment. She admitted the fact. 
"Then come witli me," he said, and took her at 
once to the quartermaster of the Vermont bri- 
gade. Here her story was accepted without ob- 
jection or question. 

They would have kept her at Winchester over 
night, for the few Vermont boys whom she found 
there admired her simple, unostentatious energy. 
But in her quiet way she said that Bedell would be 
anxious about her — he would fear that she had 
been involved in the great battle which had been 
fought, and of which she did not then know the 
issue. She thought it would be better if the 
boys would assist her in getting the change of 
clothing for their brother-officer, and then let her 
go to him and relieve his anxiety. 

To such good sense and excellent judgment the 
boys had no objection to make. They procured the 
"gripsack" of the lieutenant, containing his new 
uniform. Then they had a caucus, in which the 



150 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

agent of the Sanitary Commission took an active 
part. A committee of this caucus decided upon 
the probable necessities of Bedell under the cir- 
cumstances. The package was made ujd (omit- 
ting nothing), and after a good feed for the old 
horse and an excellent lunch for the driver and 
her niece, the cavalcade was ready to start for 
Berryville. The conveyance was more liberally 
freighted than upon any previous occasion from 
Harper's Ferry. She had not only secured the 
desired change of clothing, but a liberal supply 
of the linen and underclothing which was so nec- 
essary to the comfort of the convalescing officer. 

To the casual reader of history this exposure 
by a young and inexperienced woman to the 
actual dangers of battle may appear incredible. 
One would suppose that, terror-stricken by the 
actual peril to life, she would seek every opportu- 
nity to escape and to place herself outside its 
dangers. But it is one of the merciful compen- 
sations of war that it suppresses personal fear, and 
that those who are within the range of its ter- 
rible missiles accept the situation as a necessity. 

I cannot better illustrate the fearlessness of this 
woman in accomplishing her object on the day 
when she knew a great battle was being fought, 
which might at any moment overwhelm her, than 
by an account of an incident which I myself saw, 
and for the accuracy of which I am willing to be 
held responsible. 



THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 151 

When General Early attempted to capture 
Washington by a surprise in July, 1864, it was 
necessary to connect the forts by which it was de- 
fended by earthworks. Forts Stevens and Eeno, 
on either side of the extension of Seventh Street, 
were connected by a ditch and corresponding 
earthworks. In their construction it became 
necessary to destroy several small dwellings and 
to remove their occupants with their household 
goods. One of these dwellings was occupied by 
a colored family, another by an immigrant from 
the Emerald Isle, both having large families of 
children. Their furniture was removed into the 
street or highway on the crest of the hill, just 
where it was supposed the attacking force would 
attempt to enter the city. The officer in com- 
mand, aware that they would be under fire, urged 
the heads of these families to retire to a less ex- 
posed position under the hill, where he offered to 
carry their household goods. They would not 
consent. In the afternoon the attack was made. 
Shells were sent screaming over the place and the 
air was humming with the sound of minie-balls. 
Singularly enough the two families appeared 
to fraternize. The children were j)la3ang, the 
mothers attempting to cook their food by an open 
fire in the middle of the street, while the masters 
of the two households, extended on the ground, 
contentedly smoked their pipes as unconcerned as 
if the missiles of death which filled the air above 



152 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

them had been the notes of innocent singing- 
birds. Neither of these families could be induced 
to withdraw to a place of safety, because if they 
did they might become separated from and lose 
their little household furniture. There they re- 
mained while the fierce cannonading hurled its 
missiles above their heads, and I believe ulti- 
mately escaped all injury. 

Some insensit)ility to danger of this kind must 
have protected this brave woman on that fearful 
day. From the early morning when she left the 
camp at Cedar Creek until nightfall when the 
cavalry of Custer had driven the attacking army 
up the valley toward Strasburg, there was not 
an hour — no, not a moment — when she was not 
within ear-shot of the roar and the dangers of a 
great battle which might at any moment over- 
take and overwhelm her. Yet she kept straight 
on, turning neither to the right nor the left, not 
for one moment losing sight of the object of her 
journey. 

At Winchester she accomplished it, and in the 
early evening reached her home in Berryville, 
where she found her patient delighted with her 
success, which so much contributed to his com- 
fort, but more disposed to render thanks to the 
Almighty for her protection and deliverance from 
the perils of the day. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAR — THE PREPA- 
RATION FOR THE ESCAPE OF THE WOUNDED 
OFFICER. 

The conduct of General Sheridan in destroying 
the military value of the region in his last cam- 
paign, and his burning of dwelling-houses in 
some instances, have been severely criticised and 
have presented an interesting subject of inquiry, 
some of the results of which will be here given. 

General Sheridan was ordered to act under the 
instructions given by Lieutenant-General Grant 
to General Hunter on the 4th of August, 1864, 
by which he was directed to " take all provisions, 
forage, and stock wanted for the use of your 
command. Such as cannot be consumed, destroy. 
It is not .desirable that dwellings should be de- 
stroyed, they should rather be protected, but the 
people should be informed that so long as an 
enemy can subsist among them, recurrences of 
these raids must be expected, and we are deter- 
mined to stop them at all hazards." 

When Sheridan left the valley for the last 
time, he reports that ihe "commenced moving 
back, stretching the cjavalry across the valley, 

1153 



154 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

from the Blue Ridge to the eastern slope of the 
Alleghanies, with directions to burn all forage 
and drive off all the stock, etc., as they moved 
to the rear, fully coinciding in the views and 
instructions of the lieutenant-general, that the 
valley should be made a barren waste. The most 
positive orders were given, however, not to burn 
dwellings." 

He declares that "the whole country from the 
Blue Eidge to the North Mountain has been made 
untenantable for a rebel army. I have destroyed 
over two thousand barns filled with wheat and 
hay and farming implements ; over seventy mills 
filled with flour and wheat ; have driven in front 
of the army over four thousand head of stock, 
and have killed and issued to the troops not less 
than three thousand sheep." 

He sometimes exceeded his instructions as to 
burning dwellings, of which he gives the follow- 
ing instance: "Lieutenant John R. Meigs, my 
engineer officer, was murdered beyond Harrison- 
burg, near Dayton. For this atrocious act, all 
the houses within an area of five miles were 
burned. Since I came into the valley from Har- 
per's Ferry, every train, every small party, and 
every straggler has been bushwhacked by the 
people, many of whom have protection papers 
from commanders who have been hitherto in the 
valley." 

It would be extremely satisfactory if all the 



THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAR. 155 

murders in the valley could be fastened upon the 
vagabonds who recognized no lawful authority. 
But the evidence is conclusive that Mosby on one 
occasion ordered seven Union prisoners to be 
hung. One of them escaped by killing his guard, 
another got away in the darkness, and five were 
executed. Beyond this the evidence fails to affix 
the guilt of murder on any Confederate author- 
ity. That the old men who were exempts from 
the draft should be guilty of such crimes is ex- 
tremely improbable. AVhen the outlaws were so 
numerous that they infested every ravine and 
murdered every straggler, there was certainly no 
occasion for attributing such horrible crimes ex- 
cept to those who were always ready to commit 
them. 

It was unquestionably true that every one who 
wore the Federal uniform, if separated from his 
regiment, carried his life in his hands. Colonel 
Toles, chief quartermaster of the Sixth Corps, 
and Captain Buchanan, commissary of the Second 
Division of that corps, were both murdered near 
Berryville, and such murders were too common 
to excite discussion. 

Whoever may have been responsible for the 
existing lawlessness, the danger of the convales- 
cent officer was constant and very serious. His 
wounds were slowly healing and his long confine- 
ment became irksome and finally intolerable. He 
knew that for him discovery was death, and yet 



156 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

his desire for exercise in the open air became 
so overpowering that he insisted upon it at any 
risk. The weekly trips to Harper's Ferry began 
to excite discussion, and the demands of the ven- 
erable topers for whiskey became so exorbitant 
that the Sanitary Commission threatened to re- 
pudiate them altogether. 

As his improvement continued and he felt his 
former strength returning, Bedell experienced an 
attack of another disease to which the sons of 
the mountains are peculiarly susceptible. The 
doctor said its scientific name was nostalgia, but 
he preferred the good old-fashioned name of 
homesickness. In some cases it might be ridi- 
culed as a disease of the imagination, but cases 
had occurred in the Vermont brigade where it 
had had a fatal termination. In Bedell's case 
the attack was severe. His longing for his home, 
his wife, and his family became irresistible. 
It deprived him of his sleep by night and of his 
comfort by day. There was only one cure for it. 
He must be sent home. If not assisted he would 
undertake the journey at any risk. Again his 
nurse determined to accomplish his cure and to 
make it as free as possible from danger. 

As the lieutenant lay upon his bed or was bol- 
stered up in an easy-chair in her room, which she 
had surrendered for his use, and when the whole 
household were devoted to his care, he began to 
reproach himself for his selfishness and to think 



THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAR. 157 

that it was high time that he gave some thought 
to the troubles of his benefactress. He deter- 
mined that in this respect his conduct should be 
promptly reformed. Now, as he watched her and 
appreciated the sorrowful, far-away look upon her 
face, he knew that one who was dear to her was 
constantly in her thoughts, and he suspected that 
her exertions in his own behalf might be inspired 
by the hope that they would in some way benefit 
her husband and promote his release. It was 
clear to him now that her active mind sought 
constant employment, for if it was occupied by her 
own anxieties she would sink under the burden. 
She had given some information about her hus- 
band when he told her of his dream, but it was 
very indefinite. Very gently now he made far- 
ther inquiries about him. Then he knew how 
true a woman his preserver was, for her emotions 
overcame her and she sought relief in giving way 
to them. He persisted in his inquiries. He drew 
from her that, although not a voluminous corre- 
spondent, her husband had not failed to write her 
a brief note every week since he entered the army. 
But since his reported capture in May she had had 
no news of him. Nothing, she feared, but death, 
or sickness that was very near to death, could ac- 
count for his silence. Her anxieties had increased 
with time, and now when she gave her confidence 
to the man she had saved, she had to confess 
that she sorrowed almost as one without hope. 



158 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

Her grateful patient attempted and did not 
wholly fail to comfort her. He referred to his 
singular dream, and while he again disclaimed 
all belief in dreams, he still maintained that it 
might be a Providential intimation that her hus- 
band was living — that he had been ill, but was 
now in good hands, which would account for his 
silence. 

That same night as he lay upon her bed and 
thought of his own wife, his home, his sufferings, 
and all that this wife of his enemy had done for 
him, he registered in the depths of his soul a 
solemn resolution that when once again under 
the protection of the national flag, before he went 
to his own home, before he did anything for him- 
self, he would find her husband and restore him 
to her arms. Nor did this resolution ever weaken, 
as we shall see in the sequel, until the desired re- 
sult had been accomj^lished. 

This point settled, he devoted himself to the 
problem of reaching Harper's Ferry. Both 
armies having been withdrawn, there was no 
longer any protection for property or life. The 
lawless element ranged over the country at will. 
The wretches who now came out of their dens in 
increased numbers have already been described. 
They belonged to neither army — they robbed 
Unionist and Confederate with equal impartiality 
— they were literally the enemies of the human 
race. Any one might shoot one of them with 



THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAR. 3 59 

perfect confidence that he was domg justice to a 
murderer. Every man's nand was against them ; 
cold-hlooded murder was their commonest crime. 

They were so numerous that scores of them 
ranged through Berry ville daily. There was no 
day when some of them did not visit the house 
where the wounded officer was secreted, for by 
some means thsy had been informed that a Union 
soldier was somewhere about the premises. On 
one occasion they came upon Mrs. Van Metre un- 
awares, and the lieutenant was saved only by her 
boldness. This time they insisted upon search- 
ing her room. "Search it!" she said, "if you 
are indecent enough to invade the privacy of a 
woman." And she threw the door wide open. 
They took a hasty look inside and went away. 
"I knew," she said, "that the lieutenant would 
conceal himself as well as he could when he heard 
my voice. He was standing behind the door with 
a revolver in his hand as it was thrown open." 

For a man of his conspicuous size, with only 

one leg, to make his way in safety to Harper's 

Ferry was a problem very difficult of solution. 

While he was revolving it in his mind, one of the 

patriarchs whose secrecy had been secured in the 

manner already stated, came to him under the 

burden of a great sorrow. He had a favorite jDair 

of mules which were very dear to his acquisitive 

soul. They had been in great peril every time 

the sharp-toothed rake of war, in Federal or Con- 
11 



IGO AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

federate hands, had harrowed the valley. But 
with great caution he had always managed to 
save them from capture, until now. When Sher- 
idan decided to leave the valley, he determined 
not to leave behind him an animal that could 
draw a load or feed a soldier. None so useful as 
a mule could escape the quest of his troopers. 
The old farmer's mules were discovered, dragged 
from the hiding-place which had so many times 
effectually secreted them, and their owner's heart 
was broken. 

He had given up all hope of recovering them, 
and was trying to reconcile himself to their loss 
by the excessive absorption of sanitary stimu- 
lants, when through the mysterious communica- 
tions of the colored people with each other the 
old farmer learned that his mules were in the 
corral at Martinsburg. Changes in the position 
of the Union army had made Martinsburg in- 
stead of Harper's Ferry its base of supplies, and 
all the animals brought in by the last Sheridan 
drag-net had been collected there. With many 
sorrowful expressions the old farmer bewailed 
the loss of his beloved animals. He repeated the 
story so many times that Bedell came to detest 
the very name of the species. He could not give 
the owner any relief nor could he prevent the 
constant repetition of the story. When finally 
it became obvious that the stricken mourner 
would pay any price within his means or do any- 



THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAx. 



161 



thing in his power to secure the return of his 
mules, the Heutenant began to consider whether 
he could not in some way make the situation 
available for his own escape. One day when the 
owner was bemoaning his loss for the hundredth 
time, Bedell ventured the cautious intimation 
that if he were safely delivered within the Union 
lines at Harper's Ferry, it was just possible that 
an exchange might be effected of his own crip- 
pled body for the coveted animals. No trout ever 
leaped for a fly, no son of Abraham ever pounced 
upon a shekel, with greater avidity than the 
mule-owner did upon the intimation. Bedell had 
no more authority to contract for the surrender 
of these animals than Satan had to trade off the 
earth from the top of a high mountain. But he 
decided to take the risk of making the contract 
and of procuring his authority afterward. The 
impatience of the other party was too great to be 
restrained by a matter so insignificant as want of 
authority. He insisted upon closing the bargain 
j^t once— upon commencing the work of prepara- 
tion that night, and it was only with great diffi- 
culty that Bedell could induce him to postpone 
the arrangements for the time indispensable for 
careful precautions. 

His first necessity was the co-operation of his 
hostess and preserver. As the shades of that 
evening were beginning to fall, while the active 
woman was moving about the room, putting 



162 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

everything in its place for the night, he said 
abruptly : 

" I think I have a plan by which I can reach 
Harper's Ferry!'' 

The announcement disturbed her. When she 
spoke after some hesitation, her cheerful voice was 
obviously the result of a strong effort to control 
herself. "I ought to congratulate you," she re- 
plied, " and I am truly glad to hear what you say. 
You have been such a sufferer here, you must so 
long to see your wife and children, that I am al- 
most as glad as you are that you are soon to be 
with them. But it will be lonely here when you 
are gone. You have given me so much to do and 
think about that I must say I shall miss you 
very much." 

"Mrs. Van Metre," he said, "when I leave this 
place you will leave it with me. Only one thing 
could induce me to go without you. I would if I 
could leave you with your husband. That we 
cannot hope for now. I have been selfish, looking 
only to my own troubles, quite long enough. I 
wish now to prove that I am not altogether un- 
grateful. I will not leave you here, exposed to in- 
creasing dangers. I want you to say now that 
if I decide to attempt to reach Harper's Ferry 
you and your niece will go with me. From 
that place we will go and find your husband." 

"I do not think I can say that. A true wife 
should never leave her husband's home without 



THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAR. 163 

his consent. When he returns she should be 
there to welcome hnn." 

"But he cannot return. He is a prisoner. 
Madam!" he said very earnestly, "in that 
dreary room from which you took me I have 
suffered fearfully. There have been many hours 
when I was near to death. At times I have 
feared that I v/as losing my mind. Once, as you 
know, I thought I had seen your husband. That 
was unreal, but I cannot resist the conviction 
that he lives, that he will only be found after a 
long and difficult search. But for you I should 
now be in my grave. Shall I now leave you 
when I can assist you in the search for your 
husband? I can find him. I know I can find 
him. I do not know that any one else can. No, 
I shall not leave you! And what nobler duty 
can there be for a true wife than to go with me 
to search for her husband?" 

"Heaven forgive me!" she said plaintively, 
" for I scarcely know what to do. Your words 
are very convincing, yet I am not certain where 
my duty Hes. I must think of matters which you 
will not consider. There have been those who 
are base enough to say that my care for you 
involves disloyalty to my husband and to the 
cause in which he has enHsted." 

"Do not wound your true heart or sully the 
lustre of your noble deed by any reference to 
such wretches," he exclaimed. " You know that 



164 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

I respect you as I do the memory of my mother. 
I know that your heart is as pure as a diamond. 
Enemies shall not come between us to destroy 
our ability to assist each other. You must let 
me decide for you !" 

" I cannot, I dare not now ! Give me until to- 
morrow morning to pray God for his direction." 



CHAPTER XVII. 

THE ESCAPE. 

The plan of the escape matured before the 
final decision of Mrs. Van Metre, and was the 
combined invention of the officer, the old farmer, 
and Uncle Dick. Secrecy was now more nnpor^ 
tant than before. The old recipients of the chief 
stimulant would not be provided with it when 
the patient had left and were rather interested 
in his detention. It had been difficult to restrain 
their gossip in the past. It would be more diffi- 
cult if it involved his departure. The plan must 
be kept from their knowledge as completely as 
from that of the tramps who infested the valley. 
Mysterious sounds during the night now be- 
came common in the stable of the Van Me re 
homestead. It was kept carefully locked under 
Uncle Dick's exclusive control. A second horse, 
a good match for the spavined Rosinante, came 
to keep him company. Wheels, whiffletrees, and 
other parts of a two-horse farm wagon and of 
a double harness were collected there. In tlie 
course of two or three days a substantial wagon 
was constructed, strong enough to carry a load 
to Harper's Ferry over roads, now in November, 



166 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

worse than ever. From different contributors a 
ton or more of hay, enough for the load, was 
secured. A crate over six feet long, in which 
crockery had been irajDorted, was procured, open- 
ings were made on its four sides for ventilation 
and defence, and then Uncle Dick announced that 
the ship of the valley was ready to receive 
cargo. 

The straw mattress was to be laid upon the bot- 
tom of the wagon with a Winchester rifle, revol- 
ver, and cartridges. On the mattress was to be 
placed the officer. The crate was then to be put 
over him, and with its contents firmly bound to 
the body of the wagon. The lieutenant could lie 
extended or sit up, and from the forward end and 
two side openings get a view of more than one- 
half the horizon. The openings from the crate 
were to be loosely covered by the hay and so con- 
cealed from observation. In the event of an at- 
tack, the obstructions to sight could be readily 
removed from the inside. 

It was the cautious old colored man who had 
insisted upon these defensive preparations. In 
one of the mysterious ways known only to those 
of his own color, the particulars of which he 
would not disclose, he had become satisfied that 
an attack would be made by a party of not more 
than two or three persons, who were on the 
watch and who had kept the opportunity to 
themselves in order to secure laruer shares in the 



THE ESCAPE. 107 

booty. Bedell had tested his fidelity too thor- 
oughly now to disregard his counsels. 

The arguments of her patient finally prevailed, 
and with some misgivings Mrs. Van Metre de- 
cided that herself and niece would accomjDany 
Bedell and share the dangers of his attempt to 
reach Harper's Ferry. She had few preparations 
to make — they could take nothing with them 
— the slightest suspicion of their purpose would 
be fatal to its success. It was after midnight 
when the officer was laid upon the mattress 
with his fire-arms and crutches by his side. The 
crate was laid over him and its openings were 
carefully arranged. The whole load was firmly 
secured to the wagon, which was then piled up 
with its ton's weight of hay. A binder pole 
of hickory over the top, lashed to the axletrees 
at either end, held the load firmly in its place. 

The old farmer had allowed the rumor to get 
abroad that on a certain day he intended to go 
with a load of hay by an unfrequented route to 
a place of contraband trade not far from Harper's 
Ferry, where, if he was favored by fortune, he 
would exchange his forage for a goodly quantity 
of that liquid comfort now so much prized by 
himself and his non-combatant neighbors. In 
this manner an interest in the success of his ex- 
pedition was excited, so general that the veterans 
could not suppress their hopeful anticipations, and 
they came very near to wrecking the enterprise. 



168 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

The preparations were perfected with all the 
skill of the united judgment of all the persons 
interested ; the load made up ; the unmatched 
horses harnessed and secured to it; and Uncle 
Dick by the aid of a ladder assisted his mistress 
and her niece to tlie seat arranged for them on 
the top and carefully laid an army blanket over 
them. 

Then there was a touching separation between 
the mistress and her servant. "Dick!" she said 
as with her taj^er fingers she clasped his great 
horny hand, "you and Ginny have been devoted 
to me ever since our troubles began. It does not 
look now as if I should ever be able to repay 
you. If I cannot, I am certain that such fidelity 
as yours will be rewarded in heaven." 

"Chile I" exclaimed the negro, "nov/ don't 
you go on talking dat way, and make yo' old 
uncle feel bad jis when he wants all his pluck. 
Co'se we done for yo' — yo' was all the friend we 
had. But we's no time now to talk about dem 
tings. We know massa is in trouble Dere is 
jis one man who can find him an' help him. He 
is a good man. I hear him say in his sleep, he 
would give his other leg if he could bring Massa 
Van Metre back to yo\ Now de last words of 
ole Dick is, 'Yo' stick by de Union officer — yo' 
take his 'vice, and when yo' come back to Berry - 
ville yo' goin' to bring Massa Van Metre wid 
yo'.'" 



THE ESCAPE. 169 

"I believe you are right, Dick. I will follow 
your advice. Good-by! God bless you!" 

The driver was now in his place just in front of 
his two passengers. The stable -door was opened ; 
the team and its load emerged from the stable 
and turned into the road leading northward. 
The north star out of the depths of the blue sky 
shone in her face. Farther east beyond a peak 
of the Blue Eidge, a spike of crimson flame shot 
up toward the zenith. The solitary surviving 
tenant of her poultry -yard greeted her with a 
burst from his clarion. Thiy thrushes all along 
the wooded road seemed to invite her forward by 
their varied morning song. Her heart rose at 
the sound. All nature seemed to urge her for- 
ward and to say to her: "As nothing so graces 
the true American woman as mercy and relief 
for the suffering foe or friend, so nowhere is all 
that a true woman holds priceless safer than 
under the protection of the gentleman who wears 
the American uniform, whether it be blue or 
gray." 

And now the farmer manages the reins with 
a full sense of his responsibility for the safety of 
his passengers and freight ; the old horses seem 
inspired by a new energy, and all feel that 
every step in advance is a step toward safety. 
Over every rough piece of road the horses care- 
fully pick their way ; when the road is smooth 
they strike into a lively trot, and before mid-day 



170 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

nearly the whole route is covered and the sjDires 
of HarjDer's Ferry are just visible in the distance. 

But their escape was not yet assured. Out of 
the nettle of a great danger they had still to 
pluck the flower safety. Within a half-hour of 
the end of their journey the road descended into a 
ravine nearly a mile in length, darkened by rocks 
and trees. In the darkest part of this defile, two 
horsemen suddenly descended upon them from 
among the rocks by the roadside and ordered the 
driver to halt. They were young men, not more 
than twenty-five; they wore no uniform, but a 
glance told the brave woman that they were of 
the worst class of camp-followers, as cold as any 
Indian to whom the torture and murder of his 
wounded captive is a pleasure. 

And the old farmer knew their faces. Orig- 
inally thugs from Baltimore, they had enlisted and 
deserted from both armies, and were under sen- 
tence of death by a court-martial for murdering 
the wounded at the first battle of Winchester. 
By the treachery of one of their guards, they had 
been able to murder two others and escape to the 
mountains. They were the men of whom Dick 
had been warned. They had kept close watch, 
and mounted on fieet horses had waited until the 
team had selected its road, and then by fast rid- 
ing over another road had passed them and ar- 
ranged this ambush. 

"What fer do you want to stop me on the 



THE ESCAPE. 171 

highway?" asked the old farmer. "I am going 
to sell a load of truck, good for nothing to you, 
but might keep my folks from going hungry. 
Let me alone to go my way," he said, and with a 
cool eye to future proceedings he, as if by acci- 
dent, swung his team partially across and in the 
line of the road. 

"Not much!" said one of the brutes, who stood 
opposite the seat of Mrs. Van Metre, while the 
other caught the horses by the head and stopped 
them. "We know all about you," he continued. 
" We have watched you for a week. You've got 
a Union officer under that hay. Maybe he'll live, 
if he's got greenbacks enough about his clothes. 
You, madam, have got money and things worth 
money on your person. We want the money and 
the man. Will you give them up without a 
fuss?" 

" Gentlemen, " said the lady very gently, " you 
are Americans, I hope, and gentlemen. I am 
going after my husband, who is a prisoner. I 
have but a very little money. I am a helpless 
woman. Will you not let me pass, with the lit- 
tle that is left to us?" 

She might as well have appealed to cannibals, 
pirates, or hungry tigers of the jungle. "Now 
dry up an' get off'n that load," said the wretch. 
"We don't care shucks for your husband or your 
lover under the hay. We want your money an' 
your trinkets. Give them to me before I strip 



173 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

'em off!" And the wretch seized her by the arm 
and was about to tear her to the ground. 

There was the crack of a revolver. The grasp 
of the brute relaxed ; he staggered a few steps 
and fell upon his face. A brief pause, and the 
louder i»ejDort of a rifle, and brute number two at 
the heads of the horses slowly settled upon the 
neck and shoulders of his own horse, shivered, and 
fell on the turf at the roadside. Well did the 
women and the driver know whence these shots 
came, and that the foresight of Uncle Dick had 
saved them from capture or a worse fate. 

"Drive! drive to the town as fast as ever you 
can, before others come!" said the anxious wo- 
man. "Let us get to the town before we are 
overtaken." 

"Oh, yes, missus, we'll get over to the Ferry 
all right before very long," said the unexcited 
driver. "But don't you scare, I know these 
fellers. They meant to do this job alone — they 
hain't got no friends, an' they won't do anymore 
damage till somebody sews up the holes in their 
clothes. But them horses of theirs have got the 
U. S. brand. I think we'll take 'em along. May- 
be the general at the Ferry would rather swap 
my mules for these horses than for the sick 
kunnel, " 

With this monologue he proceeded to attach 
the bridles of the two horses to the rear of his 
wagon, while Mrs. Van Metre was begging him 



THE ESCAPE. 173 

to hasten. But he persisted that there was no 
farther danger, and succeeded in inspiring her 
with a httle of his own confidence. He then ex- 
amined the men. Both were shot through the 
chest. One begged for water. "Well, well! I 
thought so when I see you two sarpents come out 
of the bush : you ain't no Union men nor yet Con- 
federates. You're just black-hearted thieves an' 
murderers. You're one of the fellers I seen after 
the battle of Winchester. I was coming from 
Winchester way ; two boys, one blue, one gray, 
both hard hit, was helpin' each other off the field. 
You an' another chap like you was stealin' after 
them with a big knife in your hand. 'Look out 
for that black devil, boys!' I yelled. One of the 
boys pulled his gun and one of the murderers 
ran. It was you, you black devil. You ain't dead 
now. You can't kill them sarpents no more'n 
pole-cats," he observed as he rolled him out of 
the travelled part of the road. 

The delay while these reflections were going on 
had been almost intolerable to the poor woman, 
and little less so to the officer in his confined 
quarters. But it was over at last, and the driver 
was content to resume his seat, deliberately take 
up the reins, and tell his horses to "git." Within 
a half -hour afterward the conveyance was hailed 
and stopped by the picket on the Union lines. 

To the questions of the officer in command of 
the picket, who demanded to know where he was 



174 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

going and what were the contents of his load, 
the farmer dechned to make any answer. If he 
would not give any account of himself, the officer 
said he would he compelled to take him before 
the general in command of the post. 

This threat did not appear to alarm him. On 
the contrary he said: "Young feller! you look 
bright and smart. If I was in your place that 
is just what I'd do. We're onfortnit prisoners 
of war. Take us befo' your onmarciless gen- 
eral!" 

The clumsy wagon with its load of hay, drawn 
by the unmatched, half-starved horses, and its 
trembling female passengers were taken, under 
the direction of the officer of the picket, to the 
Union headquarters. Very deliberately did the 
ancient Jehu descend from his perch, throw his 
reins over his horses' necks, call for a ladder, and 
with its help and much courtly grace assist his 
lady passengers to descend to the ground. 

The officer of the day directed the horses to be 
unharnessed, taken to the stables and fed. This 
done, the driver called his attention to the other 
pair. " Don't you think Uncle Sam well has some 
claim onto these bosses?" he asked. The officer 
had no doubt of it, and wanted to know whence 
they came and how he got them. "I will tell 
you the whole story when you take me to your 
general. I ain't a-goin' to make two bites of 
one cherry. You better take care of them 



THE ESCAPE. 175 

bosses," he continued. "The fellers what had 
them won't come for them in a hurry." 

"I will," said the officer, "and now come with 
me to General Stevenson." 

"But I haven't got unloaded yet, "he protested. 
"I 'spicions there's some other goods in that load 
you might like to see. Maybe some of you fellers 
will help unload the hay. Maybe there's suthin 
under it, I dun know!" 

The hint of the old farmer fell upon listening 
ears. Stalwart arms, some with pitchforks, 
others with unaided hands, made short work of 
unloading the wagon. When the hay was re- 
moved there remained exposed the crate, cover- 
ing the mattress upon which lay extended an 
officer in uniform, with his rifle, revolver, and 
crutches by his side. He was somewhat ex- 
hausted by his long ride and deprivation of air. 
They tore away the crate and aided him to rise. 
Willing hands handed him his crutches and raised 
him to an upright position upon his remaining 
leg. They brushed the dust and straw from his 
clothing, and scores of kind soldiers tendered 
him their good offices. He was almost destitute 
of strength, his face was very pale, the perspira- 
tion stood in great beads upon his forehead. 
Rough men turned away their faces in silence as 
they witnessed his heroic effects to control his 
emotions. 

What a flood of thoughts must have crowded 

12 



176 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

his memory at that moment ! The thunder and 
crash of battle, his fall, his amputations, his 
pains and weakness, his friends forced to leave 
him, his abandonment to death by the faithless 
ones who had promised to nurse him, his bitter 
loneliness when he was watching for death ; the 
coming of his preserver, her bravery and her de- 
votion, his long sojourn in the country of his 
enemies, with never an hour that was not one 
of anxiety and peril ! It was all over now. He 
stood upon loyal ground, surrounded by his fel- 
low-soldiers, with no barrier but distance, and 
that so easily overcome, between himself, his 
family and his home. Even his faithful nurse 
was with him. Was it strange that he was silent 
— that he was so overwhelmed as to be nearly 
unconscious of his other surroundings? 

Almost in a whisper he asked for water. It 
was given to him ; he raised his hand to his brow, 
and his face brightened as some thought came to 
him. Then his eyes anxiously wandered around 
the broad plaza, as if something was absent 
which he longed to see. They rested upon the 
foot of the tall staff at the top of which he knew 
the Stars and Stripes were grandly floating upon 
the autumn air. A look of profoundest gratitude 
covered his pallid face as he removed his cap, 
raised his eyes to it, and reverently saluted the 
flag of his country. The effort was too great for 
his weak condition. He trembled and would 



THE ESCAPE. 177 

have fallen had not strong arms borne him to a 
chair. 

Save for his whispered request for water he 
had not yet spoken. The crowd around him, 
which every moment increased in numbers, was 
as silent as himself. Brave men who would not 
have minded the thunder of cannon were so im- 
pressed by the pathetic interest of the situation 
and sympathy for the sufferer that they seemed 
to fear the sound of their own voices. After a 
few more minutes he appeared to summon all 
his faculties, turned to the officer of the day, 
saluted him, and said : " Colonel, I have a report 
to make to the general in command of this post !" 

"I was about to offer to conduct you to him," 
said the officer. "I am certain that he will be 
as much pleased as we are to welcome your re- 
turn among us. Would you like to have your 
companions see the general with you?" 

"Certainly!" said the lieutenant. "They con- 
stitute very material portions of my report." 

That was a memorable procession which the 
officer of the day now conducted to the quarters 
of the veteran General Stevenson, then in com- 
mand at Harper's Ferry. 

Arm in arm with the officer went the lieuten- 
ant, his once vigorous body emaciated, his face 
pale, his eyes sunken, his strength almost ex- 
hausted, his step uncertain as he strove to walk 
upon his single leg by the assistance of his unac- 



178 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

customed crutches. He was followed by the wo- 
man who had been so heroic and energetic in the 
presence of real danger, but who was now so 
timid that she wished she could shrink into abso- 
lute obscurity, concealed from the sight of men. 
Her hand held that of her little niece, who was 
trembling like a frightened fawn as she looked 
to her aunt for protection. Next came the griz- 
zled farmer. But his assurance had all left him, 
and now when for the first time he realized that 
he was actually in the power of his enemies, he 
appeared not to be quite certain whether he would 
not be ordered to be shot without trial or prepa- 
ration. Officers and privates from the Vermont 
brigade and many other regiments followed, all 
anxious to testify their welcome back to life of 
the comrade long supposed to have been in his 
grave. They moved as slowly as a funeral cor- 
tege — they were admitted without any delay, 
and filled the quarters of the general in command 
to the overflow. 

"General Stevenson," said the officer of the 
day, " it is my duty and my privilege to present 
to you a brave soldier. Lieutenant Bedell, of the 
Eleventh Eegiment Averment Volunteers ! Lieu- 
tenant, I beg to make you acquainted with Gen- 
eral Stevenson, in command of this post." 

The veteran general would have taken his hand 
without a shadow of formality. The lieutenant 
retired a single step, saluted, and said : 



THE ESCAPE. 179 

"General, I have to report that I have been for 
some weeks absent from my regiment and within 
the enemy's lines, because disabled by wounds 
and unable to endure transportation. I have 
been concealed, nursed, saved from death, by the 
v/ife of a Confederate soldier, a brave and noble 
woman, whom I have induced to come with me 
to secure the release of her husband, a prisoner 
of war in our hands. I have been brought into 
our lines, secreted under a load of forage, by this 
farmer, who agreed to deliver me in safety at this 
post, in exchange for a pair of his mules appro- 
priated to the use of the United States by order 
of General Sheridan, now supposed to be in Mar- 
tinsburg. He has faithfully performed his part 
of the contract. I know I had no authority to 
make a contract to binfl the Government, and yet 
if not inconsistent with the regulations I respect- 
fully ask that the farmer may have his mules!" 

"I confirm your contract!" said the general 
with great cordiality. "He may select the best 
pair of mules in the corral and take them home 
with him." 

This arrangement did not satisfy the veteran 
agriculturist. He hesitated to interpose his ob- 
jection. Standing with his battered hat in one 
hand, with the other he swept the few bristly 
hairs that stood upright on the top of his head, 
in imitation of the lieutenant's salute, and uttered 
his protest. 



180 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

"General," he said, "it was my mules that I 
was to git. I wouldn't swap my mules for no 
two pair of the best mules in the valley. I raised 
them mules ; I broke 'em. They're brothers, one 
ten, the other 'leven year old. They're wonted 
to every inch of my farm. Them's the mules I 
want; they're up to Martin sburg. Missus Van 
Metre's nigger seen 'em thar." 

" If that is the case, you shall have your own 
mules," said the general. "I will see that the 
matter is looked into soon. Just now other af- 
fairs are of more pressing importance." 

The mule-owner was preparing an elaborate 
statement of his objections to this arrangement, 
when the general turned him over to his quar- 
termaster, with directions to see that he was well 
cared for, to hear his story, and if it was reason- 
able to give him satisfaction. One of his aids 
was directed to j^rovide a room and all necessary 
accommodations for Lieutenant Bedell at the 
general's quarters, Mrs. Van Metre and her 
niece, he said, would be taken in charge by the 
ladies of his own family. As soon as Bedell was 
rested and refreshed, he wished to hear the par- 
ticulars of his story. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

REST AND PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 

General Stevenson had with him the ladies 
of his family, who were then occupying a private 
residence in the town. The tide of war had 
rolled far up the valley, and they were living 
almost in the quiet surroundings of peace. To 
their care he committed Mrs. Van Metre and her 
niece. Our heroine was greatly changed. Now 
that the demands upon her energy were with- 
drawn, she became a retiring, sensitive young 
woman, unwilling to accept favors which she 
could never hope to return, yet determined not 
to seem insensible to the kindness of her new 
friends. They were equally cautious not to 
wound her pride or to force their favors upon 
her. With great caution, and largely by fem- 
inine instinct, they ascertained and, almost un- 
known to her, supplied the deficiencies in her 
wardrobe and that of her niece, and furnished 
her apartment with all those articles so neces- 
sary to the comfort of woman. She thought she 
ought not to avail herself of them ; but she had 
so long suffered from their lack, they were so 
tempting, that she yielded, although she could 

181 



183 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

make no present payment except by her thanks. 
These conveniences wrought a complete change 
m her appearance. She was now a refined, culti- 
vated lady, very modest in her bearing, dignified 
in her carriage, and attractive in her whole ap- 
pearance. But even the cheering looks and words 
of her new friends could not banish from her 
face that infinite sadness, that far-away look of 
anxious waiting for something or some one whom 
she feared might never come. 

Nor was the crippled officer less fortunate in 
his experiences. Long accustomed to compliance 
with all the demands of a healthy regimen, his 
chief source of discomfort bad been his depriva- 
tion of the luxury of the bath. He was now 
taken in hand by the valet of the general and 
the barber of the post. They were much more 
skilful, though they could not have been more 
willing or kind-hearted than Uncle Dick, When, 
after a liberal use of warm water, with his head 
properly tonsured, and what the new darky 
called a "fust -class shampoo," he left their hands, 
he was renewed in the outer man almost beyond 
recognition. Supplied by the general's orders 
with the missing articles of his uniform, he was 
once more and in fact Lieutenant Bedell, of the 
Vermont brigade, the pride of the fighting Sixth 
Corj)s, in all but the loss of his limb, to which he 
was now gradually becoming accustomed. 

Then when, farther strengthened by a good 



PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 183 

dinner, he was in a physical condition to do the 
subject justice, the big-hearted Stevenson de- 
manded that he should give an account of him- 
self during the long time when his brother-officers 
supposed he was in the other world. Many others 
were impatient to hear it, and he consented to 
relate it to as many of the boys as the room pro- 
vided by the general would contain. 

As a chronicler of events in which he had 
been conspicuous, the officer was not a success. 
Of those which concerned others he spoke elo- 
quently — so eloquently that he excited the indig- 
nation of his auditors or touched their S3'mpathies 
at his will. Commencing at the time when his 
friends unwillingly left him, with his supplies, in 
the promised care of the soldier and the wretches 
who had been paid to nurse him, he admitted 
that he sent away the nurse before he was robbed 
and deserted by the Asburys. He described how 
they took his supplies, promising to prepare and 
return with his meal ; how long and hopefully he 
waited; how the conviction gradually became 
absolute that he was now abandoned by all ; how 
the wind and rain whirled through the crevices 
during that long and dreadful night and the 
next long and dreadful day; then he knew he 
was growing colder, weaker, and his pain was 
increasing. He thought of his distant home, of 
those he would never see again. Would they 
ever know when and how he died? How long 



184 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

would he retain consciousness? Would any one 
find and bury him, or recognize him when he 
was dead? Was it wrong to wish to die soon — 
to have an end of his pain and grief in the sleep 
of death? 

And now a thought came into his mind which 
led him to fight with a fierce determination. 
He would furnish the means of his own identifica- 
tion. They should not bury him with the un- 
known. At least his body should be returned after 
the war to the little churchyard under the Green 
Mountains ! 

In a pocket on his right side there was a pencil. 
If he could reach that! He would not sleep 
again, for he might die in his sleep; he could keep 
awake, and as soon as it was light enough in the 
morning, with his left hand he would print his 
name upon the whitest thing within reach ! Now 
summoning all his strength, he tried to reach the 
pencil. Alas ! he could not. He tried again and 
again, and each time he was weaker than before ! 
Then he described his sickening sensation of fail- 
ure : he must give up, he could do nothing. He 
began to long for unconsciousness and death. He 
brought the ghastly picture so vividly before 
their eyes that the hearts of his auditors ^vere 
shocked and they hoped he would hasten to the 
end, and yet there was an attraction about it 
that led them to cry out when he proposed to 
omit an incident of the story. 



PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 185 

"Comrades!" he exclaimed, "before my Maker 
I declare that at the very moment when I was 
giving up, when I knew my strength was sinking 
and I believed I was actually dying, I thought an 
angel burst into that dreadful room. I suppose 
she carried a lamp of some kind. It seemed like 
a great wave of sunlight, bringing warmth and 
hope into that place of darkness and desolation ! 
I was glad ; how glad God alone knows, and yet 
my mortification was intense. The colored man 
could do but little to make that room a fit place 
for any woman. I tried to tell her so, for I knew 
and I recognized her noble face. Then she 
silenced me as if I had been a child. 'Don't you 
speak, sir! not a word!' she said. The light 
showed a beautiful face looking down into mine, 
and a gentle hand and a soft handkerchief dipped 
in cold water were moving over my parched lips 
and clammy face. I tell you, friends, the drop of 
cold water from the hand of Lazarus would not 
have been so delicious to the fevered tongue of 
the rich man in torment as the touch of that 
moist hand was to me." 

Then he told them how he was nursed into 
strength and then moved to Mrs. Van Metre's 
house ; of the faithful services and discretion of 
Uncle Dick, his wife, and Peter Dennis. In short, 
he told them all that we have attempted to set 
before the reader. He omitted as much as his 
auditors would permit of that which concerned 



186 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

only himself — he was a helpless hulk, incapable 
of action, only to be acted upon. But when he 
spoke of his preserver, language was too weak 
for the expression of his gratitude and admira- 
tion. "Think of her, comrades!" he passionately 
exclaimed; "she is only a girl, even now. But 
did you ever hear of such courage, charity, en- 
ergy, of such unselfish generosity? such untiring 
devotion of a woman to her wounded, helpless, 
suffering enemy? It was of little importance to 
mankind that she saved my crippled life, but her 
example ought to be preserved as a model for 
true women to imitate as long as there are wars 
among nations or virtues among men!" 

"As he went on with the story," said one of 
his hearers, "officers and privates packed them- 
selves in a circle around him. Every one leaned 
and crowded forward, with his hand to his ear, 
as if he feared to lose one word of the thrilling 
narration. It was a late hour at night when it 
ceased, not because our interest flagged or he had 
reached its conclusion, but because it was evident 
that he could not continue it except at the cost 
of physical exhaustion. The general with a very 
gentle voice said: 'We will hear the rest another 
time.' A brave, true chaplain raised his voice 
and exclaimed: 'And in the mean time let us all 
thank God for this woman — this noble woman, 
who enables us to say, this our brother was dead 
and is alive again — was lost, and is found!' " 



PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 187 

That night, for the first time since he was 
wounded, the lieutenant slept without watchful- 
ness or anxiety. He had much to do, and he 
wished to set about it without delay. He in- 
tended to take the early morning train for Wash- 
ington, where he proposed to consult influential 
Vermonters and arrange for the release of the hus- 
band of his preserver. But when he awoke the 
sun was streaming into his windows, and the 
train for Washington had been on its way long 
enough to have already arrived at the capital. 

A servant who had watched for his awakening 
brought him his breakfast, which he took in bed, 
luxuriously. He was then informed that the 
general wished to see him before he made any 
plans for the future. 

General Stevenson received him with much 
cordiality. "Your system needs toning up, lieu- 
tenant," he said when he met him. "I have an 
excellent prescription for you. Be seated and 
take it at once." And he handed him a thick 
letter, only three days old, which bore a post- 
mark in the Green Mountain State. 

It proved to be just such a letter as a sensible, 
affectionate Vermont wife might have been ex- 
pected to write under similar circumstances. It 
informed him of the health and comfort of his 
family, of their undying love, of their anxiety 
and sorrow when they heard of his wounds and 
his being left behind when the army retired, of 



188 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

their joy and that of all their neighbors when 
they learned from his last letter of his almost 
certain recovery through the nursing of a good 
woman. Would he carry to that dear woman 
the gratitude and love of his own wife? The 
writer had only one aj^prehension now. Her 
husband was still in danger in the enemy's 
country. She wanted him home ! 

"We have had a bad fright, dear," continued 
the letter. " But it is happily over now, and I 
can write you all about it. After we had read 
over your last letter so many times that we 
could repeat it from memory, Henry brought me 
his school atlas, and wanted me to show him 
where you were and the ways I would take to go 
to you. I took great pains to show him, for I 
like to know that the children are thinking about 
you. For two or three days the little fellow was 
very sober. Two or three times he said to me 
that you must be very lonely, and as you could 
walk only by the help of crutches, you must need 
some one all the time to get things for you. One 
morning very early I found that he had disap- 
peared. I hunted for him, and as I did not find 
him I aroused the neighbors to assist me in the 
search. When I returned to the house I dis- 
covered that the map we had been looking over 
was torn out of Henry's atlas. It then flashed 
over me that the little fellow had started to go 
to you ! At my request, our neighbor N bar- 



PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 189 

nessed his horse and drove immediately to the 
railroad station, which he reached before the ar- 
rival of the train for the South. There he found 
Henry half-concealed in a dark corner of the 
station. He asked him where he was going. 'I 
am going to bring my father home, sir," he said. 
'It is a long way, and he is lame and cannot get 
away alone. ' 'But,' said our neighbor, 'it is a 
long and expensive journey to your father, and 
you have no money. ' 'I have some money in my 
bank,' he said; 'I will give all that, and when I 
tell them that I am going after my father who 
was wounded, fighting for his country, and has 
had his leg cut off and is lame, and we want him 
home, and there was no one to go after him but 
me, and I will work and get the money, I think 
everybody will help me ! Don't you? Anyway, 
I must try ! ' He consented to come home, and 
he did not shed a tear until his arms were about 
my neck and his head lay on my shoulder. Then 
— but I think I will not tell how he grieved. So 
you see, dear Henry, that you need not mind 
the loss of your leg. Very soon you will have 
all the assistance you want from your own 
son." 

" General, I must go home at once. I cannot 
wait," said the officer as he finished reading the 
letter. 

"That may be best," said the general. "But 
I have some information to give you, and before 



190 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

giving it I would like to know all the facts. Is 
there anything unpleasant in that letter?" 

"No, I cannot say that there is. Would you 
like to read it?" he asked as he extended his 
hand. 

" I think I would," responded the general. He 
took the sheets, and while reading them slowly 
turned his back toward the officer. There was a 
spasmodic twitching of his gray mustache. Once 
he removed and polished his spectacles after first 
wiping bis eyes. Then he cleared his throat and 
faced the lieutenant again. 

"It is not singular that 3T)U should feel drawn 
to your home, lieutenant," he said. "You ought 
to be proud of your son ! Yes, and of his mother. 
If he lives and I live, and the country remembers 
the services of a battered old soldier, that boy 
shall go to West Point. He gets his sand from 
both father and mother, I see. It's the mothers, 
though, that make the boys. God knows what 
reason I have to say that!" he said with deep 
reverence. 

"But I have tidings for you not quite so agree- 
able," he continued. " Mrs. Van Metre is ill — de- 
lirious. My family and the doctor don't quite 
understand it yet, but it seems that she has suf- 
fered so much that kindness overwhelms her. 
We fear she will have brain fever. It will be a 
sad, sad case if she does. I thought you should 
know her condition at once. She shall have the 



PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 191 

best of care, for I solemnly believe, Bedell, that 
she is the noblest woman I ever saw." 

"General, you alarm me!" said the officer, 
" but you have settled one matter. I had thought 
I would go home for a few days, then return here 
and go with her to find her husband. But I 
should be a cur to leave her now. Heaven forgive 
me for thinking of it." 

"You are a trump, my boy!" said the general, 
laying his hand upon Bedell's shoulder with a 
force that made his single leg quiver. "No man 
was ever the loser by doing the square thing by 
a woman, and certainly not by such a woman as 
she who saved your life. Now, if that brain of 
yours, which has been considerably stirred up re- 
cently, is settled so that you know, tell us what 
we can do for you. Mrs. Van Metre is in the 
hands of good nurses, who, for some reason which 
I do not know, say that it would not be wise for 
you to see her now." 

"I know of one thing that I want now, "said 
Bedell. " This stump of a hand of mine cannot 
yet do much with a pen. I want some one who 
will write a dispatch for me and afterward a 
letter." 

The general touched a bell. "Bring me some 
telegrafth blanks," he said to the messenger who 
answered his call. In a moment they were before 
him. "I will write the dispatch," he continued. 
" I know there is a woman who wants it. Here 



192 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

I have the direction already written. What do 
you wish to say?" 

"What is the charge for ten words?" asked 
the officer. 

"Charge for ten words!" roared the gen- 
eral. "Man, are you crazy? Here you are, 
just brought back from the edge of the grave, and 
you want to count the words in which you shall 
tell the mother of your boy that you are safe 
under the old flag! No! no! tell me what you 
want to say. Give me the idea. I will write 
the message for you, for on my word I don't 
think you are capable of writing it — nor that I 
should be if I were in yonr place," he said after 
some hesitation. 

Bedell complied. He would like to inform his 
wife, he said, that he had escaped from the en- 
emy's country and was safe within the Union 
lines ; that except for the loss of his leg he was 
almost well; that he would come home very 
soon, but there were some matters he must first 
attend to which would not detain him many 
days. 

The general thereupon wrote the following after 
showing the direction : 

" Your husband is now sitting in my quarters 
here, strong and well but for the loss of his leg 
and a part of his right hand. He was brought 
in by a brave and noble woman, who unquestion- 
ably saved his life, kept him concealed for six 



PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 193 

weeks, and brought him safely here. She, poor 
woman, is in deep trouble, for her husband is a 
prisoner in our hands, and she has not heard from 
him since his capture last May. Her exertions 
have overpowered her, and she has been stricken 
with fever. Your husband says he would be a 
cur if he should leave her in her present sickness 
and sorrow. I am no judge if the woman 
who wrote him the letter he has just shown me 
is not of the same opinion. Take the advice 
of an old soldier! Be patient! Stand by the 
brave woman who has so nobly stood by your 
husband, and, with the blessing of Almighty 
God, you and she shall both soon see your hus- 
bands." 

The general signed his own name to the dispatch 
and marked it with the letters D.H. Bedell said 
it was admirable, just what he wanted, but the 
charges would ruin him. 

"Do you see those capitals — D.H. ?" asked the 
general. "They mean Deadhead! No charge. 
Free passage ! If the telegraph company will not 
deadhead such a dispatch to such a woman as 
your wife, I have got no use for it and it will 
get out of my department double-quick!" He 
rang the bell. "Send this!" he said to the mes- 
senger who came. Then turning to the officer he 
said, "I will commission one of my aids to write 
your letter." 

But Bedell declared that the dispatch conveyed 



194 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

all that at present he desired to say to his wife. 
At all events, he would not write until he had 
more definitely determined when he would go 
home. First of all he wished to see Mrs. Van 
Metre. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 

In his first interview with them, the officer saw 
that the faces of the surgeons wore a very serious 
expression. The condition of Mrs. Van Metre, 
they said, was very critical. Her danger was in- 
creased by their inability to account for her dis- 
ease, upon which their prescriptions produced no 
effect whatever. Her temperature was very high, 
her pulse rapid, her delirium constant. She 
seemed to be tortured by her conscience. Her 
self-reproaches were pitiable. She said she was 
a bad, wicked woman. She had nursed, possibly 
saved the life of a Northern invader — of the en- 
emy of the South. It was wrong — her country- 
women would all think it was wrong. Her 
prayers, her appeals for mercy were touching. 
She thought she was doing right ; she had done 
it for her own husband ! Should not a true wife 
do all she could for her husband? She had done 
wrong — she saw it all now. She did not ask par- 
don for herself, she was willing to die, but she 
implored the Lord to save her husband I She 
would not see Bedell, she could not hear his name ; 

195 



190 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

she was a wicked woman because she did not let 
him die! 

The doctors secured from Bedell a faithful ac- 
count of all she had done, of all he knew about 
her. Her soul, he said, was as pure as an angel's. 
He had never heard but one intimation made 
against her conduct; that was by one of the rob- 
bers who attacked them on their way into camp ; 
he had paid for his slander with his life. It was 
finally decided that in her grief for her husband 
she had sought occupation for her mind in the 
care of the wounded officer. That now he v/as 
out of danger, her grief had returned with greater 
intensity, and under it in her weakened vitality 
her mind had given way. 

While this diagnosis was reasonably accurate, 
it did not give effect to their prescriptions nor 
lead her into the path of recovery. 

Just then, however, something occurred which 
but for her delirium would have been more effect- 
ive than any medical prescription. General Ste- 
venson had been so impressed with her devoted 
conduct as described by the lieutenant that he 
had communicated the substance of it by tele- 
graph, as soon as it came to his knowledge, to 
Secretary Edwin M. Stanton. That officer forth- 
with ordered the immediate discharge of Mrs. 
Van Metre's husband as a prisoner of war, and 
directed that well-known and knightly old veteran 
General Ethan Allen Hitchcock to write to her 



A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 197 

the letter which appears in our introduction to 
this volume informing her of her husband's re- 
lease. This letter ought to have relieved all her 
apprehensions. But the assault of the disease 
upon the throne of her reason had been very se- 
vere. With all the obstinacy of delirium she re- 
fused to believe the good news, and even charged 
her nurses with kindly intent to deceive her. She 
persisted in her conviction that she had committed 
a crime for which there was no pardon. Even 
the excellent clergyman who, hearing of her 
troubles, came to reason and to pray with her, 
could make no impression upon her. Her tem- 
perature continued to rise, her fever began to 
develop more dangerous symptoms, and the skilled 
physicians who had her in charge said that unless 
it could be arrested, it would consume her remain- 
ing vitality and the end would come. 

Poor Bedell was well-nigh frantic. From the 
very heights of happiness and hope he was 
plunged into the lowest depths of despair. He 
became almost as unreasonable as his benefactress 
in her delirium. He charged himself with her 
disease and her destruction. Nor could he for a 
time himself bear up against the sea of troubles 
which now appeared to roll its resistless waves 
over him. His long journey under the load 
of forage, deprived of a supply of air, had 
weakened him ; his consciousness that her devo- 
tion to him was the proximate cause of his pre- 



198 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

server's present condition so wrought upon his 
mind that he was ready to take to his bed, in- 
different whether he ever rose from it again. 
Although the influences which wrought upon his 
mind were not unHke those with which Mrs. Van 
Metre was contending, the administration of rem- 
edies by the doctors produced some effect. They 
gave him powerful sedatives, and he ultimately 
fell into a broken, half -delirious sleep. 

The railway station at Harper's Ferry was in 
such close proximity to the quarters of General 
Stevenson that from his room Bedell knew of 
the arrival and departure of every passenger train. 
He was even able to distinguish those to or from 
Northern and Southern routes of travel. One 
morning, after a restless night in which for the 
hundredth time he had reviewed the whole his- 
tory of his acquaintance with Mrs. Van Metre, 
and was unable to draw from it any justification 
for the past or hope for the future, he fell into a 
half-waking slumber. The curtains were drawn 
to exclude the light from his windows ; faithful 
colored nurses had been provided, who were di- 
rected to permit no one to enter his room except 
in their presence, for the breaking out of a new 
suppuration from his amputation was imminent. 
Should that occur, his condition might again be- 
come as desperate as it was when he was found 
in his deserted room. 

On this afterward well-remembered morning. 



A TIME OP NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 199 

as he lay dreaming of his home and of many 
things which gave comfort to his heart, he heard 
long before daylight the noise of the conveyances 
and other preparations for the early morning 
trains. Then there was the noise and bustle of 
their arrival, the clamorous solicitations of the 
cab -drivers for the passengers, the sound of 
wheels as the vehicles rolled away. Then all was 
still and dark again, for it was in the early days 
of winter. 

He supposed that he fell asleep again and was 
dreaming of those who were so dear to him in his 
distant home. He imagined that he was in some 
new and deep trouble. Some one had come be- 
tween himself and his wife and children and was 
intent upon keeping them separated. Weak and 
crippled by his wounds, he was powerless to re- 
sist. In the confusion of his dream he fancied he 
heard voices. One was that of his new colored 
nurse: "I ask your pardon, missus, but my or- 
ders was de strictest kind. De cappen mus' not 
be waked. No one mus' go into his room !" Then 
he fancied he heard another voice, strangely dear 
to him, entreating, "But I am his wife. I have 
the right to see him. Tell him that it is his wife 
that wants to see him." 

"I cannot do it, missus," said the nurse. "I 
should be dismissed if I disobey de surgeon's or- 
ders, and if de cappen should die I would be shot. 
You mus' wait till daylight and see de doctor." 



200 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

Then another dear, famihar voice seemed to 
say: "He is my papa! I want to see my papa! 
I will see him ! No one shall keep me and my 
mother from my own dear father! Is this the 
door to his room? Stand aside, I say, and let us 
pass!" 

" 'Fore de Lord, I was afeard of dat little boy," 
the nurse afterward said. " Seemed like as if he 
was in command oh de post, and we had to get 
out oh de way. He march straight to de door, 
and say to de lady, 'Come!' Well! I did de bes' 
I could, but it was no use!" 

Now indeed the door did open, and with an 
effect which reminded him of the night when his 
preserver first came to him in his desolation at 
Berryville. Some one ran across the room with 
a quick, light step and grasped his neck and 
spoke. He heard the voice of a boy exclaiming, 
"Papa! my own papa!" Then there was a 
slovv-er, softer step, and in the dim twilight he 
saw approaching him the form which was dearest 
on earth to him. It was his own dear wife — ^it 
was no vision, no dream, all was real. He was 
awake, the arms of his wife and his boy were 
around him, their voices were in his ears, and, 
thank God, he was once more with his loved ones. 

The advent upon the scene of a clear-headed, 
sensible woman promptly changed the appear- 
ance of things. At once, that very morning, be- 
fore she attempted to give her husband any ac- 



A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 201 

count of his home or of herself, she set about 
making herself the mistress of the situation. Her 
husband was only too ready to tell the whole story 
of Mrs. Van Metre and to sound the praises of 
the noble woman who had saved his life. His 
enthusiastic admiration might have excited the 
jealousy of some wives, but in this case it only 
filled her heart with love. She had long and re- 
peated interviews with the doctors, who assured 
her that she must on no account see their patient, 
for the excitement would probably increase her 
fever and produce a fatal result. The old clergy- 
man related his interviews with her, and finally 
the guests of General Stevenson took her into 
their confidence. From these ladies she secured 
much valuable advice and information. In fact, 
the conclusion arrived at was rather the result of 
their joint judgment than the opinion of any one 
of them. With the instincts of good and true 
women, they decided that Mrs. Van Metre was 
an intensely conscientious, faithful, and most de- 
voted wife; that when she had long endured in 
silence her grief for the captivity of her husband 
and her anxiety for his safety, and when her 
nerves were irritated by the incessant sounds and 
perils of war, she had heard of this wounded, 
deserted, and dying officer. She had followed the 
impulses of her emotional nature, and with an 
undefined idea that some Northern woman might 
do for her imprisoned husband what she could 



202 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

do for his wounded adversary, she had devoted 
herself to the work of saving Bedell's life. The 
work gave her occupation — prevented her own 
grief from gnawing at and tearing her heart. 
She had succeeded. Now, when her patient was 
safe among his own people, when her constant 
devotion was no longer necessary, her own sor- 
row, her love for her husband, her doubts whether 
she had done right, her fears, had simply over- 
whelmed her like a flood. All the barriers of 
her firmness had given way, and the recent events 
in her life, that unselfish devotion which to others 
appeared so beautiful, seemed to her inexcusably 
selfish and base. 

If this diagnosis of the situation was correct, 
Mrs, Bedell knew that it was the heart of her 
husband's preserver that wanted treatment, in- 
stead of her body, and that she could not be ben- 
efited by medical prescriptions. She was an 
energetic person, this woman of the Green Moun- 
tains, and her act swiftly followed her conclu- 
sions. As soon as she had decided upon her 
course, she went straight to the doctors and in- 
sisted upon her right to nurse the patient. They 
hesitated, argued ; she v/as a stranger, they said. 
An interview with her they feared would increase 
the fever and excitement of the patient and might 
prove fatal to her life. Then they had no evi- 
dence of her skill and experience — in short, if she 
had been an ordinary woman they would have 



A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 203 

refused to permit her to see the patient, who, as 
they were constrained to admit, was rapidly grow- 
ing worse. 

She swept away their objections with a wave 
of her hand. " She will die, you say, unless there 
is a favorable change," she said ; " your treatment 
has produced no good results. Why not, then, 
try mine? I think it is my duty to see and to 
nurse her, I would much prefer to see her with 
your consent. I have a better right to see her 
than you have to keep us separated. If I cannot 
obtain your consent, I must dispense with it!" 

The doctors, who ardently desired to save the 
life of their patient, decided not to oppose her 
vigorous proceedings farther, and consented that 
she might see Mrs. Van Metre for five minutes 
only. She accepted the compromise with a men- 
tal reservation that she would do as she liked 
about complying with the condition as to time. 

It was evening when she entered the sick-room. 
Very soft was her step as she approached the 
bedside and very slow the movement of her 
strong, cool hand as it stole around that of the 
patient, now hot with fever. She seated herself 
upon the bed; with her handkerchief saturated 
with some perfumed stimulant she bathed the 
dry, hot forehead and face ; then her head drooped 
and she kissed the fevered hand which lay upon 
the coverlet. Then her arm quietly crept around 
the restless form and drew it toward her until 



204 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

each could feel the beating of the other's heart. 
Her face was very near to that of the weary pa- 
tient now. Their lips closed in a long kiss, and 
the first words which fell in a whisper upon the 
ears of the sick woman were : " You have brought 
my husband back to me from the borders of the 
grave; we will go together and find yours.'''' 

There was no need that the new nurse should 
tell her that she was Bedell's wife — no need to 
thank her for what she offered to do — no need of 
any words between them. Their hearts were 
close together, speaking a language which both 
understood. Then for the first time since her ill- 
ness the fountain of the sick wife's tears was 
opened. The tears of her gratitude mingled with 
those of her sister's affection on the same pillow. 

The doctor who was on the watch, alarmed by 
the length of the stay of the new, self-appointed 
nurse, and really anxious for its consequences, 
now gently opened the door to call her away. 
By the dim light he could distinguish the forms 
of the two persons, but they were so close to- 
gether that they seemed but one. The sick wo- 
man lay nearest to him ; he saw the movement 
of her respiration, not short and feverish as it 
had been, but gentle and almost as slow as that 
of the strong woman in whose embrace she lay. 
As he came nearer he was still more surprised to 
find that the patient was sleeping, but the eyes 
of her new friend were wide open. He made a 



A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 205 

motion of his hand as if to invite her to rise and 
leave the room. With her hand which was at 
liberty she pointed to the woman sleeping in the 
clasp of her other arm, and as he declared after- 
ward, she also gave him a glance of almost con- 
temptuous refusal. "They have no use forme," 
he thought, and discreetly left the room. 

An hour passed and then another — still the 
patient slept. They called Mrs. Bedell to her 
supper — she would not change her position. It 
was late in the evening when the patient awoke. 
There was a look of profound gratitude in her 
eyes, a healthy perspiration upon her forehead, 
and although she was not yet strong enough to 
be clothed, she was beyond question in her right 
mind. 

The joyful news of the miraculous change in 
one patient was carried to the other and wrought 
an improvement in his condition almost equally 
extraordinary. His anxiety and loss of sleep on 
Mrs. Van Metre's account had so exhausted him 
that, as soon as it was removed, wearied nature 
reasserted her demands. Even his curiosity to 
hear why his wife and boy had come to him and 
of their adventures on their journey temporarily 
lost its influence. Just as soon as it was made 
clear to him that Mrs. Van Metre's fever had 
been arrested and that with proper care she would 
recover, his eyelids grew heavy and he was sound 
asleep before his wife had finished her story. 



20G AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

"Gentle sleep, nature's soft nurse, weighed the 
eyelids down and steeped the senses in forgetful- 
ness'' of both the patients who had been so long 
and so sorely tried. 

There is an end even to the sleep of the labor- 
ing man — tired nature's sweet restorer — even to 
that which the Lord giveth to his beloved. When 
Mrs. Van Metre again awoke, it was to find her 
niece had been well cared for, and relieved of that 
anxiety, she yielded herself to the direction of her 
new friend with the docility of a weary child. 
Mrs. Bedell contented her with the promise that 
she would come back to her as soon as she had 
given her husband some account of his home and 
her journey. For this relation her husband was 
now impatient. She told it to him substantially 
as follows: 

"Do you ask me why I came to you, Henry?" 
she said. "You should have known that your 
telegram would have called me to you from the 
borders of the grave. The story went through 
our town that you were not dead — that you had 
written me a letter while you were lying desper- 
ately wounded in the enemy's country — then that 
you had reached Harper's Ferry in safety, and 
from that place had sent me a telegram. The 
neighbors gathered at our house, heard and dis- 
cussed your last dispatch. They could not under- 
stand why, if you were well enough to travel, you 
did not come home. I said that I could read 



A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 207 

many things between the lines of your telegram. 
I knew that the woman mentioned in it had 
done you some great service — I did not care to 
know what it was; that you considered yourself 
under a great obligation to her ; that you would 
not leave her while she was ill and in great anxiety 
on account of her husband — for one reason be- 
cause you would know that I wanted you to stay 
with her until she was well or had received some 
news of him. I was satisfied, but they were not. 
They said there must be something that kept you 
which you could not or would not tell me. You 
were either much worse in health than your gen- 
eral telegraphed or you were under arrest ! Any- 
way they advised me to go to you at once. I said 
I had no money. They offered me four times as 
much as I needed. You may imagine that I did 
not require much urging to set out on a journey 
that would bring me to you. 

" Next day I received a railroad pass from our 
good governor over the railroad to New York 
and back. Then the neighbors almost quarrelled 
over the children. There were four or five who 
wanted them until I returned. I supposed our 
boy would go to the father of his inseparable 
companion whom you know. He had said noth- 
ing, but he had been thinking. When he spoke, 
he said something like this : 'If my mamma goes, 
I am going with her to my father. He wants to 
see me just as much as he does her, and a man 

14 



208 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

can do him more good than a woman. Then my 
mother wants me. I am not wilKng that she 
should start on this long journey alone when I 
can go with her and take care of her. You 
needn't try to stop me, for I have made up my 
mind to go. ' 

" I suppose the neighbors were rather amused 
by it, but I felt proud of the little fellow's manli- 
ness. Then some one said that as he was under 
ten years he would go for half-fare, and the con- 
ductors might pass him free if they knew our 
errand. So I consented that he should go. We 
started next day. I cannot begin to tell you how 
great an assistance he has been to me. He has 
made friends with every conductor — he has as- 
sured them that he was taking his mother to his 
father, who had his leg shot off in the war. No 
one asked him for his fare ; he was manly but not 
forward with every one, and but for him I should 
not have got access to you when we arrived. I 
cannot help saying that I am very proud of him. 
This is the whole of my story, excej^t to say that 
since you left us every one has been kind to us; 
and now, thank Heaven ! you and I are together 
once more, and I hope never again to be parted." 

Then her husband told his story and gave her 
a full account of the heroic conduct of Mrs. Van 
Metre. They were both of one mind. It was 
their first duty to protect her until they had found 
her husband and restored him to her lovina: arms. 



A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 200 

When the physician from the Green Moun- 
tains again returned to her patient from the val- 
ley, it was to find her fever abated and the light 
of a new joy in her eyes. "I have had such a 
lovely dream," she said. "I dreamed that an 
order had been issued for my husband's release 
by the Secretary of War. I hope it is one of those 
dreams which will prove true." 

Mrs. Bedell had the very great joy of assuring 
her that it was no dream, but a fact which during 
her fever she would not believe. "Your hus- 
band's discharge is ordered," she said. "Nor is 
that the best part of the news. The conduct of 
his wife is commended by the Secretary of War 
as an example for the imitation of the good wo- 
men of the world." 



CHAPTER XX. 

THE AFFLICTIONS OF THE MULE-OWNER — PREPA- 
RATIONS FOR THE SEARCH FOR A PRISONER 
OF WAR — THE SEPARATION OF THE FRIENDS. 

The proprietor of the mules had waited pa- 
tiently until the sick were convalescent, and Le 
now insisted that the contract with him should 
be carried out by the delivery of his animals. The 
quartermaster rather mischievously insisted that 
he did not see why one mule was not just as 
good as another, and that if the farmer was per- 
mitted to select a pair from the stock at Harper's 
Ferry he ought to be satisfied. But that ar- 
rangement no amount of bourbon fluid would in- 
duce him to accept. He undertook to satisfy the 
quartermaster that he ought to have his own ani- 
mals. His argument promised to be entertain- 
ing, and was delivered in the presence of a large 
and amused audience. Inspired by a draught of 
stimulating fluid, he began: 

"I s'pose them mules ov mine is pretty much 
spiled by this time," he sighed; "no mules could 
stan' what they've had to go through, I reckon." 

"There is no possible ground for your fears," 
210 



THE AlrPLICTIONS OF THE MULE-OWNER. 211 

said the quartermaster. " The mules from Mar- 
tinsburg have not been harnessed since the army 
moved. They have been well fed and ought 
to be in better condition than when they were 
captured." 

"It's their morrils I'm afeard on. It's an 
awful resk. Look what company them mules 
has had to keep. They're soshiated with them 
ornary army mules. An army mule will spile 
anything not made of cast-iron, I was once got 
into a heap ov trouble by an army mule. They're 
the dangerousest, deceavinest hoss-kind that ever 
was foaled. They're artful enuff to cheat old 
Nick himself." 

"I should think so if they were too sharp for 
a valley farmer. But tell me how they cheated 
you." 

"It was this way. I foun' one ov them mules 
a-draggin' ov his halter — a-strayin' onto the 
pike. I picked up the halter. Why, he was the 
innocentest lookin' creetur — no butter wouldn't 
melt into his mouth, I went up an' patted him 
on the back. He kind ov sidled up to me like he 
wanted to be friendly — I scratched him an' he 
sidled up some more. His head was a-drooj^in' — 
his long ears slowly fioppin' up an' down. His 
eyes was mostly shet, but I ort to have known 
that a look outen one corner ov his eye meant 
deviltry. But I didn't. The rest ov him was so 
lamb-like that I never thot ov his eye. I said to 



^12 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

myself, 'This poor mule has got lost — he ort to 
be took care of or he'll starve. I'll lead him 
home and give him a feed. ' So I started to lead 
him to my stable. But he braced out his four 
feet an' wouldn't go — jest stood still an' shook 
his head as if he meant, 'No go. ' Still he seemed 
'fectionate. He kep' raovin' round an' kinder 
sidlin' up to me. I was pattin' him back of his 
hips an' a-sayin' to myself, 'They ain't many men 
as knows how to manage a mule — most men 
would whale this mule with a black-jack; that 
would hurt his feelin's an' make him contr'y; 
the way to manage a mule is to treat him softly 
— to reason with him. Now a mule is a good 
deal like a man — see how easy I can manage this 
one. I coax an' pat him an' he rubs up agin' 

me jest like a pet dog or a kit ' 

"Jest then I was struck by suthin' — I thot it 
was the butt-end of a telegraph-pole. Suthin' 
dropped— -it was me. The very stuffin' was 
knocked outen me. When I kem to myself I was 
a-layin' on my back in the middle of the pike. 
Abuv an' round ixie was a thick cloud of dust, 
an' in it, buzzin' an' whizzin' an' cris-crossin' 
every way, was about ten thousand mules' hind 
legs an' hoofs. It looked scary. I crawled right 
out ov that cloud, an' there as I lay on the 
ground, that cussed mule winked at me! Yes, 
sir, he winked at me ! His latter end was cavort- 
in' an' kickin' up all that cloud of dust an' mules' 



THE AFFLICTIONS OF THE MULE-OWNER. 213 

feet, an' the other end was wavin' his ears an' 
munchin' a Canada thistle! 

"Jest then along come a nigger. 'Sampson,' 
I said, 'tie up that ar mule to a tree — cut a hick- 
ory gad an' whale him tell he squeals!' 

"'Scuse me,' said that nigger, 'that is Uncle 
Sam's mule. I wouldn't dar hit him wid a stick. 
Don't you see de brand U. S. — Uncle Sam?' An' 
then up kem a teamster. ' Here, you cussed 
mule!' he said. ' What do you mean by running 
away? Who you consortin' with?' An' I'll be 
d — d if that cussed mule didn't trot up to that 
teamster an' lay his head over the man's shoul- 
der an' laff — yes, sir, he fairly snorted! 'Yes, 
yes! I see,' said the man. 'Was they try in' to 
steal you. Bob? and did you have a little fun 
with 'em?' An' then he laffed some more. An' 
I made up my mind to have nothin' more to do 
with no army mules. I want my own mules 
that I raised — that's got some morril princijDle. 
Sooner than take a pa' r of army mules, I'd change 
the wounded officer for three fingers of whiskey." 

"You shall have your own mules, characters 
warranted, and the whiskey besides," said the 
quartermaster. "You deserve them for your 
story, as well as for bringing in our officer. But 
you must be patient until I can arrange for their 
delivery." 

Although the order of Secretary Stanton im- 
plied that there would be no difficulty in finding 



214 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

Van Metre, it was the strong conviction of Bedell 
that the search for him would be long and weary. 
He was decided not to leave his benefactress 
until he knew that the search was successful. 
There were many arrangements for him to make 
while awaiting her recovery. This was progress- 
ing favorably under the influence of the nurse 
from the Green Mountains. The latter 's good 
sense and care gave her pojDularity among the 
officers at Harper's Ferry. She was a modest, 
simple, warm-hearted, but an intensely thorough 
woman. She was naturally reserved — her activ- 
ity only appeared when the necessity arose. Then 
her reserve force was immense, and she seldom 
undertook anything which she did not accomplish. 
It is needless to say that she was esteemed and 
honored by all who knew her, and by those of her 
own sex beloved. 

The universal favorite of the officers of the post 
was the Green Mountain boy of ten years, son of 
the wounded officer and his efficient wife. The 
youngster assumed all the duties and responsibili- 
ties of manhood. The attentions of others were 
pleasant to him, he said, but really he could not 
afford them much time. He had none for mere 
pleasure or curiosity. He must look after his 
mother ; she wanted his close attention now that 
she had taken charge of Mrs. Van Metre. He 
could not leave his father to the carelessness of 
servants now that his son was on the ground. 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE SEARCH. 215 

The little time he could save from his father and 
mother should be devoted, he said, to military 
studies and practical work to qualify him to take 
his father's place in the regiment, for he would 
never be able to take the field again. He accepted, 
however, an honorary appointment to the Sixth 
Corps and his father's regiment, and when, deco- 
rated with the Greek cross and the cap and dress 
uniform of the corps, he was seen moving about 
the camp in the discharge of his duties, no one 
could fail to see that he was a born soldier. Gen- 
eral Stevenson would have given him the title 
of brevet colonel, but he would not consent to 
outrank his father. He was known throughout 
the camp as the little colonel. He was a credit 
to the regiment as well as to himself. 

One matter which Bedell felt bound to arrange 
was the contract about the mules. Those which 
the old farmer identified at Martinsburg were 
found to bear the brand of the United States. In- 
stead of surrendering them, the officer in charge 
threatened to arrest the claimant. He, mean- 
while, was faring so well in the camp and enjoy- 
ing such an abundant supply of his favorite fluids 
that he was in no haste to bring his case to an 
issue. But Bedell brought the matter to the at- 
tention of General Stevenson, who cut the knot of 
the difficulty in a soldierly fashion. He ordered 
all the mules from Martinsburg to Harper's 
Ferry. When they arrived the farmer selected 



216 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

his beloved animals, and the general gave him a 
certificate that he held them by virtue of an ex- 
change for a Federal officer whom he had de- 
livered within the Union lines. He went away 
happy, and carried with him several valuable 
presents for Dick and his wife Ginny and for 
Peter Dennis. These were delighted to know that 
they were not forgotten by their mistress nor the 
wounded officer. 

Then it was necessary to consult the paymaster. 
To his credit it should be recorded that he inter- 
posed no obstacles. He assisted Bedell to jirepare 
his accounts, and the liberal supply of new and 
crisp greenbacks which he paid him was quite 
adequate to the wants of the entire party. 

But when the lieutenant's application for leave 
of absence, founded upon his crippled condition, 
in order that he might accompany Mrs. Van Metre 
in the search for her husband, was presented to 
Secretary Stanton, instead of being granted it 
was marked suspended, and Bedell was ordered to 
report himself to the Secretary of War in Wash- 
ington, and as soon as she was able to travel to 
bring Mrs. Van Metre with him. This check 
was very discouraging. It was inexplicable, in- 
asmuch as the facts upon, which the leave of ab- 
sence was asked were certified by the surgeon of 
the regiment and by General Stevenson. But 
Bedell was a soldier, and notwithstanding the 
reputation of the terrible Secretary for inhuman- 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE SEARCH. 217 

ity and a total want of human sympathy, he re- 
solved promptly to comply with the order of his 
superior officer. 

Under the constant watchfulness of her nurse 
and physician the improvement of Mrs. Van Metre 
was rapid. Her gentle ways, her cheerful sub- 
mission to the directions of her energetic friend, 
won the hearts of all the ladies of the post, who 
were delighted in sj^ite of her protests to make 
provision for all her wants which their sharp 
eyes could discover. A consultation with her was 
indispensable before the future course of the 
friends could be determined. Bedell wanted to 
hasten it, but his wife would not permit it to take 
place until she knew that all danger of a relapse 
had passed. 

A bright, crisp November morning came, when 
a suitable carriage was found and one of our 
heroines took the other for a drive into the 
country. 

The driver improved the occasion to impress 
upon the mind of her companion the fact that she 
was still physically weak and that she must sub- 
mit without resistance to whatever plans for con- 
ducting the search for her husband should be 
adopted in the council of her friends. 

" It would be idle for me to undertake any op- 
position to you," said the gentle convalescent, 
"for I am conscious that I could not succeed. 
From that first night when you came to me you 



318 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

have been able to control me at your will. I do 
not regret it, for you have won my entire confi- 
dence." 

"I am glad to hear you say so," replied Mrs. 
Bedell, "for I want something from you." 

"What is it, pray? What have I in my pov- 
erty which could be useful to you?" 

"I want your niece — I want to take her home 
with me to the mountains. My husband seems 
to have come to believe in dreams. He thinks 
he has had a kind of revelation about your hus- 
band. He anticipates great difficulty in finding 
him. But he declares nevertheless that he will 
find him and bring him to our home in Vermont. 
Your niece cannot help you in the search. I 
will take her with me and love her as though 
she were my daughter, and when you come to us 
I will give her back to you." 

"Perhaps your plan may prove to be the 
wisest, " replied Mrs. Van Metre. " I am not shed- 
ding tears of sorrow. They come unbidden when 
I think what a friend you are in my loneliness. 
I will consider your request. I know I shall do 
what you ask in the end." 

The ride seemed to give strength to the patient, 
and it knit these two souls together in the bonds 
of an enduring friendship. There was a council 
in which Mrs. Van Metre took her full share. It 
was decided that the little colonel should take 
charge of his mother and the Virginia girl of his 



PREPARATIONS FOR THE SEARCH, 219 

own age, and escort them to the home under the 
shadow of the Green Mountains. The lieutenant 
and Mrs. Van Metre would proceed to Washing- 
ton, take up the search for her husband, and never 
discontinue it until they found him. Then the 
three would go to Vermont, where all, reunited, 
would remain until this cruel war was over. 
They would separate now as soon as the arrange- 
ments could be perfected. 

Mrs. Bedell now decided that Mrs. Van Metre 
was sufficiently strong to begin her quest. She 
could not be expected to restrain her imfjatience 
against farther delay. Her niece had become 
attached to Mrs. Bedell and was a great favorite 
with the little colonel. A re -examination of the 
cordial letter of General Hitchcock convinced 
them that they had not so much to fear from the 
terrible Secretary, and they were ready to leave 
Harper's Ferry. 

Neither of them could leave a place where they 
had received so much kindness without regret. 
When on a bright winter's morning they found 
at the station the veteran Stevenson, many of 
the officers of the post, with the ladies of their 
families, and a multitude of private soldiers, as- 
sembled to bid them farewell, they knew the re- 
gret of the parting was not confined to the casual 
visitors. All the officers who had heard the story 
of what this woman of the valley had done for 
one of their comrades were there to tender her 



220 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

their respectful admiration, to bid her God-speed ; 
other wives to thank her for the noble example 
she had set before the women of the country. 
All knew that her own life had been saved by 
the active skill of the woman from the Green 
Mountains, and energy is admired by the soldier 
almost as highly as courage. 

The lieutenant was looked upon as one raised 
from the dead, and the little colonel was the fa- 
vorite of all. 

The latter was full of business; but he did 
not lose his head for a moment. Coolness was a 
special qualit}'' of Sedgwick's old Sixth Corps, 
and in the presence of these veterans he had the 
reputation of the Vermont brigade to sustain, 
and he did it well. He declined all assistance. 
His father had been provided with transportation. 
He had procured seats, and when the veteran 
general with moistened eyes and trembling voice 
had bidden Mrs. Van Metre farewell with the 
courtesy of a brave officer, he had only to escort 
her to her place. Lieutenant Bedell followed. 
The little colonel shook him by the hand, and as 
the train moved slowly out of the station he 
swung his cap and called for three cheers for 
Mrs. Van Metre. His call was responded to with 
a will which made the station ring from its base 
to the highest turret above its roof. Nor was 
the response less emphatic when some soldier 
proposed cheers for the departing officer. 



THE SEPARATION OP THE FRIENDS. 221 

The boy's work was nearly done. There was 
a proud look in the mother's eye and an amused 
expression on her face as she took his proffered 
arm and was led into the car, to the seat next the 
one in which he had already placed the young 
Virginian guest. Then when General Stevenson 
cordially took her hand and declared that he 
would make the future of her son his special 
care, and the boy took leave with the grace of a 
gentleman of every one who had come to see the 
party take their departure, it is not strange that 
her bosom swelled with some natural pride. 
The boy stood upon the rear platform of the last 
car and swung his cap as the train moved out of 
the station, and the salute of cheers which fol- 
lowed him was loud enough to drown the ringing 
of bells and the shrieking of steam-whistles. The 
train which moved northward bore a happy, 
grateful, affectionate, and jDroud wife and mother 
— grateful for the preservation of her husband, 
happy in his return, affectionate toward his pre- 
server, and proud of her son. That which moved 
southward carried a brave and honorable soldier 
and a noble and true wife, who now was com- 
forted by the reflection that she had done her 
duty, but whose heart was sad and sorrowful 
because her future still seemed dark and inscru- 
table. 

And so they separated, followed by the kindly 
wishes of many friends, two of them to search 



222 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

after the person indispensable to the happiness of 
both famiHes, the others to go to Vermont and 
wait for the reunion. There in due season they 
safely arrived — and there for the present our 
story leaves them. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

IN THE DEN OF THE OGRE, THE TERRIBLE 
SECRETARY. 

Upon their arrival in Washington, Bedell went 
to a well-known friend of Vermonters who held 
a position in the civil service of the Government, 
and asked him to go with them when they called 
upon the much-dreaded Secretary. The friend, 
who had the advantage of a personal acquaintance 
with the chief of the War Department, declined 
the invitation. He knew something of the offi- 
cer's story, and he also knew that the characters 
in it would need no other introduction. He 
^assured the lieutenant that he might lay aside 
all his anxiety, as he would probably find the 
Secretary one of the most agreeable gentlemen 
he had ever encountered. 

His friend could not remove Bedell's appre- 
hensions. When the time came for them to go 
to the War Department, he afterward declared 
that he showed the white feather for the first 
and only time in his military career. He would 
have preferred to lead a charge against a battery 
of artillery, but when he reflected that he was 

15 223 



224 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

performing his duty and obeying an order, his 
judgment reasserted itself and to some extent 
suppressed his fear. 

On their way to the War Office, much to their 
surprise, they found themselves attracting gen- 
eral attention. They were the observed of all 
observers. Those whom they met upon the broad 
sidewalk turned to allow them to pass and then 
followed them with their eyes. They were quite 
unconscious of their unusual appearance. The 
lieutenant, six feet and three or four inches in 
height, in his new uniform, which fitted his gigan- 
tic figure, now filled out almost to its normal 
proportions; his head erect, his eyes full of 
energy and fire, with one-fourth of his body car- 
ried away, compelled to assist his remaining leg 
with the awkward wooden supports under his 
shoulders — by his side the small, girlish figure of 
the woman of the valley, very trim in her neat, 
dark travelling suit provided by her many 
friends at HarjDer's Ferry, her face concealed 
under the folds of a half-mourning veil, which 
she could not be persuaded that she should not 
wear — together made a picture which was im- 
pressive even in a city not unaccustomed to strik- 
ing and remarkable exhibitions. 

One of their experiences was long remembered. 
There was a French vessel of war at that time in 
the Potomac Eiver, and a considerable party of 
her sailors were that day enjoying their leave on 



THE TERRIBLE SECRETARY. 225 

shore. They were in excellent spirits, rollicking 
along the avenue, here pausing to look at a pub- 
lic building, again inspecting and discussing in 
their lively foreign tongue anything peculiar 
which attracted their notice. Their eyes fell 
upon the singular pair coming toward them, one 
of whom they promptly assumed was a recently 
wounded officer. There was a sharp word of 
command in their foreign speech. It did not 
seem an instant when they were formed in two 
lines facing each other on the op^wsite borders of 
the footway. Then there was another order. 
Each man removed his cap, held it in his hand, 
and bowed his head. And there they stood, not 
boldly gazing into the faces of the pedestrians, 
but with eyes directed to the ground, until the 
wounded officer and his companion had passed 
between them and were some distance on their 
way. Then the Frenchmen broke ranks and re- 
sumed their promenade. It was a simple act, 
but it was noble in its simplicity. It was the 
natural, involuntary tribute of gentlemen wear- 
ing the uniform of common sailors to bravery 
and virtue. Had they know the history of the 
pair, their tribute could not have been more effec- 
tive or more touching. 

And so they made their way to the reception- 
room of the Secretary of War ; that room which 
saw so many hopes dashed to destruction, so 
many scenes of sorrow and despair. After the 



2'2() AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

summer of 1862 there were few mornings when 
it was not crowded. There were men and wo- 
men there of all kinds and descriptions. There 
were sjDeculators, dishonest contractors, thieves, 
knaves, bankrupt in money and character, and 
alas ! so many with sad faces and weary hearts, 
whom the relentless hand of war had sorely 
stricken. All these were petitioners for some- 
thing forbidden by the stern rules of cruel war. 
Our friends were approached by the colored mes- 
senger, to whom the lieutenant presented his card 
with the request that it be shown to the Secre- 
tary. It bore the names of Lieutenant Bed-ell, 
Eleventh Vermont Volunteers, and Mrs. Van 
Metre. 

A number of applicants had already preceded 
them that morning. They expected to wait until 
all these had been presented to the Secretary. 
To their surprise the messenger immediately re- 
turned and said to them in a low voice: "The 
Secretary desires to see you at once. Follow me !" 

They weie conducted through one room into 
another. It was not that small, dark one with a 
railing across one corner, behind which the Sec- 
retary had stood so many times and dashed so 
many hopes to the earth by his curt " No ! it can't 
be done!" but another, through the open door 
of which they saw a short man with glasses and 
a heavy beard seated at a desk, with huge piles 
of folded papers around and on every side of him. 



THE TERRIBLE SECRETARY. 227 

As their names were announced and they were 
advancing with a slow and hesitating step, he 
sprang to his feet, came quickly forward to meet 
them, took the hand of the half-terrified woman 
in his warm and cordial grasp, and said in a 
voice which rang with its own clear sincerity: 

" Madam, you are a noble woman, and it is a 
pleasure to meet you." Still holding her hand he 
continued : "You have met with a great misfor- 
tune, lieutenant, in the loss of your limb, but that 
loss was in some sense a blessing when it brought 
you such a friend." 

Both were too much surprised to reply. Each 
felt that something ought to be said. Mrs. Van 
Metre first recovered herself and managed, with 
a broken voice scarcely above a whisper, to say : 
"But I am a Southern woman, Mr. Stanton." 

"I know you are," he said, "and that is why 
your kindness to one of our wounded officers is 
such an act of charity — that greatest as it is the 
loveliest of all the virtues. I know that your 
husband is a Confederate soldier, and I hope he 
is as brave and true in his sphere as you are in 
yours. It is faint praise of you to say that you 
are an honor to your sex. I can and do say most 
sincerely that I wish every woman North and 
South would emulate your example. I do not 
ask you to be seated," he continued, "for here, 
in the pressure of business, I cannot converse 
with both of you as I wish. Besides, I have 



228 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

promised one of your sex, Mrs. Van Metre, for 
whom I have a high esteem, that she shall hear 
yoiir story from your own lips. Will you both 
favor me with a call at my house about eight 
o'clock this evening?" 

What could they say but yes? A quick move- 
ment of his hand indicated that their audience 
was over. In another moment this busiest of 
men was at his desk, buried beneath his ever-in- 
creasing mountain of public duties, and his visitors 
were shown to the street by another exit. 

The lieutenant felt the hand of his companion 
trembling upon his arm, and he knew that behind 
her thick veil she was silently weeping tears, not 
of sorrow, but of gratitude. He made no obser- 
vation until they reached their hotel and were 
about to separate. Then he said : 

"I have great hopes of Secretary Stanton. I 
think he intends to assist us." 

" And so have I, " she replied. " God bless him ! 
How different he is from what 1 supposed," she 
added fervently. 

They separated, he enjoining her to compose 
herself for the evening. The lieutenant was sur- 
prised by the number of cards left for him, for 
he was yet to learn with what facility the repre- 
sentatives of the press may elevate a modest man 
to celebrity. Several of these gentlemen were 
waiting in the drawing-room to interview him, 
and their numbers were increasing. His natural 



THE TERRIBLE SECRETARY. 229 

good sense showed him, when they first assailed 
him with questions, that it would be unwise to 
open his lips until he had told his story to the 
Secretary and taken his advice. He undertook 
to maintain that position and to treat his inquis- 
itors with civility. He supposed he had done so 
and that he had disclosed nothing about Mrs. 
Van Metre or himself, until he saw the evening 
journals. Then, to his astonishment, he saw his 
own portrait and one of Mrs. Van Metre, which 
was wholly imaginary, and under it an equally 
imaginary account of his recent exiDeriences, 
which purported to have been written from his 
own dictation. 

This experience was so disagreeable to the 
lieutenant and his charge that if so much had 
not depended on the friendship of Secretary Stan- 
ton, they would have invented some excuse for 
breaking their engagement to call upon him in 
the evening. But he left them no opportunity 
to escape. In the course of the afternoon a mes- 
senger brought them a note requesting them to 
be in readiness at an hour named, when a carriage 
would call to convey them to his residence. Ob- 
viously it was useless to contend against all the 
resources of the Government, and like sensible 
persons who had encountered an irresistible force, 
they submitted without farther resistance. 

Their evening at the modest residence of Mr. 
Stanton on Franklin Square was memorable to 



230 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

themselves and a considerable number of ladies 
and gentlemen who were invited to meet them. 
They did not know until long afterward that 
the gathering comprised some of the most conspic- 
uous representatives of European powers, as well 
as our own Republic. There were few introduc- 
tions : there was such an absence of all formality 
and such cordiality was manifested by the ladies 
that Mrs. Van Metre lost her timidity and felt that 
she was among friends who sympathized with her 
in her trials. Nor was the experience of the lieu- 
tenant very difficult. Almost before he was con- 
scious of the situation, he was eloquently relating 
the story of her energetic labors which had un- 
questionably saved his life. He was a plain man, 
this Vermonter, with a limited vocabulary and 
unpracticed in speech ; but when he sketched the 
picture of that cheerless room where he lay de- 
serted, helpless, and almost hoping for death, and 
told the story of her entrance, and how bravely 
she met the king of terrors, fought with and, 
notwithstanding all his advantages, finally de- 
feated him in the long, fierce battle for the life of 
the wounded, helpless man; how she took him 
into her own desi^oiled home and by her cool 
bravery procured the means and by their skilful 
use finally saved him, the spell-bound company 
listened with breathless interest and their hearts 
were moved with the tenderest sympath3^ Those 
who did not know him were accustomed to say 



THE TERRIBLE SECRETARY. 231 

that no tale of suffering could soften the flinty 
heart of the great war Secretary. Those who 
saw him that evening knew better, for at times 
it was evident that a considerable effort was 
necessary to enable him to suppress his emotions, 
A writer of eminence who was present declared 
that the pages of English literature held no story 
more touching, no clearer proof that truth was 
sometimes stranger than fiction. The voice, 
manner, and bearing of the narrator were a sat- 
isfactory test of the truth of his story. 

The modest, brave wife, the preserver of the now 
strong and vigorous though crippled officer, was 
compelled to listen in silence to her own praises. 
The ladies vied with each other in their efforts to 
encourage and cheer her. They made her feel that 
although she was among the women of the North, 
she was surrounded with friends who would spare 
no exertions to serve her. 

Lieutenant Bedell did not miss the opportunity 
to show to the Secretary the immediate and, for 
the time, the exclusive object of his life. It was 
to find the husband of his benefactress and re- 
store him to his home. He related how he had 
parted from his own wife, who had willingly 
gone to his Vermont home that he might exe- 
cute his search without anxiety on her account 
or that of his children. How far he succeeded 
in interesting those who then listened to his story 
the reader may infer from the parting words of 



232 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE, 

his host. Holding Loth the hands of Mrs. Van 
Metre, now overcome by kindness and tremulous 
with emotion, he said : 

" Madam, I know of nothing in the history of 
woman more meritorious than your conduct. 
We read in the Book of Books that 'a virtuous 
wife is a crown to her husband.' You are that 
and more — you are an honor to your country and 
your sex. I hope your trials are nearly over — 
that the order for his discharge has already 
reached your husband. If it has not, if you have 
any difficulty in finding him, the resources of my 
department will be prompt to assist you. You 
have earned the right to command them. Every 
gentleman in the service will, with me, esteem it 
an honor to assist you." 

So they took their leave of the man she had so 
much feared, her heart full of the new hope 
which his kindness had insj^ired — of gratitude to 
the Almighty, who had shown her the path of duty 
and given her strength to follow it. That night 
she rested peacefully and the next morning 
awakened with renewed courage for the duty be- 
fore her. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

THE FIRST FAILURE IN THE SEARCH, 

The order for the release of Van Metre as a 
prisoner of war had been issued by the Secretary 
upon the theory that he was then confined in a 
certain camp of Confederate prisoners. His wife 
had not been greatly elated by the dispatch of 
the Secretary and the letter of General Hitchcock 
which had followed it, for if he was confined in 
that camp there was no explanation for his long 
silence. By the direction of the Secretary, Bedell 
prepared a paper giving a description of Van 
Metre. This paper was sent to the proper officer 
for a report. It came very promptly. It stated 
that Van Metre was captured in the valley in 
January, 186i, that he had escaped, and that 
noiu there ivas no prisoner of that name whose 
name luas borne on the records of the departmeyit. 

This report was a sore disappointment to the 
wife, but it was not unexpected to the lieutenant, 
who had constantly maintained that he would 
only be found after a long and weary search. 
He now proceeded to collect the facts concerning 
him, and these facts at once indicated that there 

233 



234 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

was a good reason for Bedell's apprehension. 
Van Metre had enlisted in the regiment of cavalry 
raised in the valley, where he had been captured 
in January, ISG-i. On their way to Harper's 
Ferry his captors had, at his request, stopped at 
his house, permitted him to have an interview 
with his wife and to procure a change of clothing. 
He might easily have escaped from his guards, 
but would not because he had given them his 
word to that effect if they would permit him to 
call at his home. He had corresponded with his 
wife until the following May, since which time 
she had not heard from him. His last letter was 
from Camp Chase, at Columbus, Ohio, where he 
was taken at the time of his capture. 

There was another rumor, altogether incon- 
sistent with these facts. It was that on the 
11th of May he had been among the captured at 
Spottsylvania Court-House, where, at the j^lace 
afterward known as the "Bloody Angle," the 
Federal column swept down upon the division of 
General Edward Johnson and captured him with 
twenty pieces of artillery and twenty-eight hun- 
dred men. An acquaintance who was also cap- 
tured and who afterward escaped reported that 
A^an Metre was one of the prisoners and that he 
saw him when he was marched to the rear, ap- 
parently unwounded. From this time his wife 
had heard nothing of or from him. 

When the report came from the veteran Gen- 



THE FIRST FAILURE IN THE SEARCH. 235 

eral Hitchcock, commissary-general of prisoners, 
that there was now no name of Van Metre upon 
the roll of Confederate prisoners, a very dif- 
ferent effect was produced upon the two persons 
engaged in the search. The poor wife again felt 
the waves of despair overwhelming her. All her 
apprehensions returned, stronger than before she 
left the valley. Her husband must be dead, she 
thought ; nothing but death would have prevented 
him from sending some message to her. There 
was no other way of accounting for his silence. 
She imagined many evils. He was bold, some- 
times reckless. Naturally impatient under re- 
straint — weary of the life of a prisoner, he had 
attempted to escape and had been shot down; 
or having made his escape he had sickened and 
died ; or he had lost his life in some other way. 
These impressions, from which her mind had been 
relieved by its diversion to her care for Bedell, 
now returned with increased intensity. When 
the last report was received there was scarcely a 
gleam of hoj^e in the dark horizon of her future. 
This temporary obstruction instead of discour- 
aging Bedell only inspired him to new exertions. 
When he put all the facts together, he promptly 
came to the conclusion that Van Metre's silence 
was in some way, he could not conceive how, 
connected with his escape. In spite of himself 
his mind continually recurred to his dream. He 
did not believe in dreams, of course. A man who 



236 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

did ought not to be suffered to go at large ; he 
should be restrained, put out of harm's way like 
other lunatics. And yet that dream was curious 
and fearfully real. Was it not possible that hav- 
ing made his escape, Van Metre had determined 
to re-enlist in the Confederate service? Then it 
might have occurred to him that an escaped pris- 
oner who re-enlisted, if captured again, before 
he was exchanged might be treated as a deserter 
if detected. He might have enlisted, therefore, 
under an assumed name or given a different 
name when he was again captured. There were 
many ways of accounting for the fact that he 
was still a prisoner, still living, and that his name 
did not appear upon the roll of prisoners. 

Unable to work out a satisfactory conclusion 
in his own mind, he wisely decided to carry his 
problem to the Secretary of War. Instead of 
putting it aside, Mr. Stanton at once proffered 
any assistance he could give. " It has frequently 
happened," he said, "that captured men would 
not give their true names — the records of the 
office are not always reliable. It is by no means 
impossible that Van Metre is yet a prisoner." 
His advice was that before the taper of hope 
should be wholly extinguished in the heart of 
that sorrowing woman — before the search should 
be wholly abandoned, every depot of Confederate 
prisoners should be visited and every prisoner 
be examined. He would facilitate that search 



THE FIRST FAILURE IN THE SEARCH. 237 

in every possible way. He would give Bedell 
and Mrs. Van Metre free transportation, permis- 
sion to examine every prison, and an order on 
the officer in command to deliver to her any 
person whom she should claim as her husband. 

And so it happened that Bedell went from the 
discouraged, almost heart-broken woman, with 
his own faith somewhat weakened, to the War 
Office ; was there told that instead of giving up 
the search, he ought to regard it as only just be- 
gun ; that in continuing it he was to have not 
only the countenance, but the actual interest of 
the War Office and its efficient head. The report 
of his consultation confirmed the purpose of Mrs. 
Van Metre not to give up while a ray of hope 
remained, and it was finally decided to prosecute 
the inquiry upon the new lines prescribed by the 
Secretary of War. 

I suppose there will be readers of this book 
who will charge me with taking an unfair ad- 
vantage if I here inject into it a little of "what 
I knew about Edwin M. Stanton." I am not in- 
different to just criticism, but I shall risk even 
that to enable me to do an act of justice to this 
misjudged, misunderstood man. 

I am perfectly aware that it was the prevail- 
ing opinion, especially among those who are wise 
to do evil but to do good have no knowledge, 
that Secretary Stanton was a cold, heartless, ob- 
stinate, cruel man, who delighted in inflicting 



238 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

pain and in adding insult to his refusals of fa- 
vors which another would have granted, I 
knew the man better. I concede his brusque, 
sometimes rough manner. I neither excuse nor 
palliate this great defect. But it should be re- 
membered that every day there was in his recep- 
tion-room a large and varied crowd, many of 
whom were thieves — human vultures who would 
prey upon their country. These he detected by 
intuition and crushed by a sentence. Others 
were wives in search of their husbands, Rachels 
weeping for their children, all seeking passes 
through our lines or something else prohibited 
by the hard necessities of war. In many of their 
bosoms the last hope would be extinguished by 
his negative. He usually stood beside a desk or 
behind a railing upon which his arm rested with 
his head sujDported by his hand. No one who 
ever witnessed it could forget that sad procession. 
He disposed of the petitioners with rapidity. He 
heard enough of each to know that something 
was asked that could not be granted, when his 
curt refusal fell upon the hopes of the petitioner 
like the axe of the guillotine upon the neck of its 
victim. Very pitiable and very numerous were 
these scenes, and his seemed the only heart un- 
moved. There were some who saw him a few 
minutes after one of these sad receptions, where, 
when he was alone or only a friend was present, 
his stoicism gave way to all the emotions of pity 



THE FIRST FAILURE IN THE SEARCH. 239 

and sympathy which filled his real, genuine heart. 
The lieutenant declared that his interviews with 
Mr. Stanton were sometimes closed by the cordial 
grasp of a hand upon which often a warm tear 
would fall after coursing along his thick, dark 
beard, even as the precious ointment that ran 
down upon the beard of Aaron went down to 
the skirts of his garments. Therefore it is that 
I do not doubt the statement that as often as the 
Secretary saw in the maimed officer the proof of 
what this Southern woman had done for a North- 
ern soldier and heard the touching tale repeated 
he was deeply moved. I am unwilling to lose 
the opportunity, and sometimes create the occa- 
sion, of saying that I do personally know that Mr. 
Stanton was a kind, sympathetic, great-hearted 
American, as well as the great War Secretary. 

With full authority from the Secretary to in- 
spect all records and to prosecute the strictest 
search through every depot where there were 
any Confederate prisoners and an order to deliver 
to Mrs. Van Metre any person whom she should 
claim as her husband, the lieutenant next ap- 
plied for assistance and advice to the commissary- 
general of prisoners. His story touched the gal- 
lant and venerable General Hitchcock as it had 
his chief, all the more intensely because he was 
himself a Vermonter, a descendant of Ethan 
Allen, whose name he bore. He was of the 
opinion that some one had blundered, and the 

16 



240 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

available force of his office, with the assistance of 
Bedell, set about the work of ascertaining when 
and where the blunder was made, and of prepar- 
ing a list of the dejDots of Confederate prisoners 
and the places where these prisoners were cap- 
tured. Mrs. Van Metre, meanwhile, passed her 
time in assisting inquiry and in making new 
friends. 



CHAPTEE XXIII. 

THE BLOODY ANGLE — THE PRISONER AND HIS 
BETRAYER. 

When in future times an American is tempted 
to the performance of an act which may tend to 
involve his country in civil war, may his good 
judgment counsel him to pause while he reads 
and reflects upon the story of the " Bloody Angle. " 
Not in this book ! Heaven forbid that I should 
shock its readers with a history which, after 
thirty years, I cannot read iii the heat of a sum- 
mer evening without a convulsive chill. It is 
with considerable hesitation that I give the slight 
sketch of it which my story seems to require. 

The place which gained this sanguinary title 
was an angle of nearly ninety degrees in the line 
of the Confederate field defences, extending north- 
ward from Spottsylvania Court -House about 
one and one -half miles and then abruptly turned 
westward. On the 11th and 12th days of 
May, 1864, the two great generals of their time, 
each at the head of a powerful army of veteran 
soldiers, confronted each other on the plains of 
Virginia. Accident selected the field for the 

341 



242 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

most terrible fighting of these armies, the most 
deadly combat which ever took place upon the 
western continent. It was just within and 
around the sharp corner in these Confederate 
works which projected northward and toward 
the Federal advance. Behind this angle was the 
division of Major-General Edward Johnson, num- 
bering very nearly three thousand men and 
comprising twenty pieces of artillery. In front 
of it, about a half-mile away, was Hancock's 
command of the Union army, which comprised 
the divisions of Barlow and Birney. 

I am perfectly aware that in the days when 
the short-sword of the Romans conquered the 
world, warriors necessarily fought to their death 
within its short length of each other ; that there 
must have been very brave men who held the 
pass of Thermopylae; that from the Assyrian 
invasion to the "charge of the light brigade" 
there have been hand-to-hand conflicts in many 
of the great battles of the world. But if on the 
face of this terrestrial globe there is any spot 
which has been the theatre of such a fierce, 
bloody, long-sustained, continuous contest as the 
Bloody Angle, I do not know where it is to be 
found nor in what volume its story has been re- 
corded. Hand-to-hand fighting, not by scores or 
by companies, but by thousands — not by men 
accidentally thrown together, but by regiments 
and brigades deliberately marching to the shock; 



THE PRISONER AND HIS BETRAYER. 243 

cannon, their muzzles thrust through the crev- 
ices in the breastworks and there discharged, 
drawn back, reloaded, thrust forward, and fired 
over and over again; oaks of primeval growth 
literally gnawed to their fall by minie-balls, 
and in their fall crushing the combatants who 
were slaying each other beneath their shade; 
logs of breastworks splintered and broomed by 
swift missiles of death; dry trenches flowing 
with human blood; batteries of artillery with 
all their officers, men, and horses silent in death 
on the ground around the exploded caissons and 
disabled guns ; the ground not merely covered, 
but piled four deep with the dead ; the lines so 
close together that as the men fell forward the 
blue and the gray lay side by side or were piled 
in alternate layers; men dying in the act of 
stanching the mortal bayonet wounds only a 
moment before inflicted in the mad rage of battle 
• — such were some of the sights and scenes of the 
Bloody Angle. Which party was the victor? 
Neither ! Such men, of the same race, blood, and 
courage, fight and die — they may be crushed 
by overweight and overpowered by numbers, 
but they cannot be conquered. Such scenes may 
be imagined, but they cannot be painted nor 
described. 

We are concerned only with the beginning of 
this conflict. Just as the dawn was struggling 
through the morning mists. Barlow and Birney, 



2i4 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

at the head of their respective divisions of Han- 
cock's right wing of the Union army, in a dense 
column with a narrow front, rushed to the 
assault. They bounded over the works, and be- 
fore the Confederates could recover from the 
shock, forced them back from their defences, 
encircled the division of General Edward Johnson 
as in a net of steel, and bore them to the number 
of twenty -eight hundred, with twenty guns, 
swiftly back to the Union rear. They were thus 
carried outside the storm which for the next 
twenty hours raged back and forth, like a hurri- 
cane in the waves of hell, over the Bloody Angle. 
During those hours the fate of the Confederacy 
was hanging in the balance. In a council of war 
the previous evening, General Grant had invited 
the opinions of his generals on the question 
whether the works could be carried and the Con- 
federate line be broken at that place. A majority 
of the generals were of opinion that it could not. 
General Upton said: "I can capture the position 
and break their line. Whether the position can 
be held is a different question, which must depend 
upon the supj)ort given to the charging column." 
He led the charge successfully. But while charge 
after charge of the Confederates was defeated, the 
Union advance was checked and the Confederate 
line re-established but a short distance in the 
rear of the first. Then one body of trained sol- 
diers was hurled against another with such force 



THE PRISONER AND HIS BETRAYER. 245 

that both went down over and over again, until 
one of the commanders, it matters little which, 
weary of the expenditure of one of his own veter- 
ans to destroy a single veteran of his enemy, 
retired and left to the other the empty honor of 
holding the field. It was at the moment of one 
of the many Confederate charges of this day that 
General Lee rode up, clearly intending to make 
the charge by the side of General Gordon, who 
was to lead it. Then it was that the cry was 
raised by countless Confederate voices, "General 
Lee to the rear!" and a private soldier respect- 
fully but firmly took the bridle -bit of the horse 
of his general and led him to a place of compara- 
tive safety. 

The first sensations following his capture of a 
prisoner of war are seldom agreeable. Among 
the twenty-eight hundred of the captured was 
Van Metre, the husband of the woman of the 
valley. Although confident in his own mind that 
he had committed no impropriety, he was not 
certain that his captors would take so lenient a 
view of his case. He had placed himself, under 
no obligation to the authorities at Camp Chase, 
it being his purpose to be left free to escape if he 
could by any means elude the vigilance of his 
guards. After a few weeks' experience there, he, 
in company with three others, made his escape, 
and after much suffering and danger had reached 
the army of Virginia only a few days before his 



246 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

second capture. He was a visitor to Johnson's 
division, and in fact on his way to his own regi- 
ment, which he supposed was in the vicinity of 
Staunton. He was therefore not a combatant. 
But he feared that if he was proved to have 
taken service, without being exchanged, in any 
other regiment than his own, he might, if again 
captured, be treated as a spy. He was a Con 
federate in every fibre — an intense Virginian, 
true to his flag. As no information of the cir- 
cumstances of the assault had reached the pris- 
oners, he with others supposed that they had 
been captured in a disreputable manner by a sur- 
prise. Almost without reflection, he determined 
that the safest course for him would be to sup- 
press his name and regiment. He was, under 
the circumstances, naturally thoughtless and 
irritable. When it was proposed to the prisoners 
that in consideration of liberties to be allowed 
them they should j)romise, for the time, not to 
attempt to escape, he peremj)torily refused to 
give any pledge and declared that he intended to 
regain his liberty at the first opportunity. When 
they were asked to give their names and regi- 
ments he made no answer. Another prisoner 
who claimed to know him invented a name and 
a regiment for him. He was regarded as con- 
tumacious and, with a few others equally uncom- 
promising, was separated from the mass of the 
prisoners, marched by the shortest route to the 



THE PRISONER AND HIS BETRAYER. 24T 

Potomac, ferried across to Point Lookout, dropped 
into the multitude of thousands of Confederate 
prisoners as "John Thompson, First Arkansas 
Cavahy," and, except as a prisoner who had 
escaped from Camp Chase, his true name no 
longer appeared upon any Federal record of Con- 
federate prisoners. 

From this time misfortunes accumulated upon 
the head of the unfortunate prisoner known by 
the name of John Thompson. He was naturally 
conscientious and would have recoiled from the 
thought of intentional misrepresentation. But 
now he was brought to a sense of his true situa- 
tion. In a moment of thoughtless irritation he 
had forfeited his name and his claim to the rights 
of a prisoner of war. He condemned his own 
conduct unsparingly, began to look upon his mis- 
fortunes as no more than he deserved, but for the 
time could discover no way of amending his situ- 
ation. 

From its commencement, his imprisonment 
at Point Lookout was more intolerable than 
his previous experience at Camp Chase. The 
location of the camp was solitary and depressing, 
and one feature of it was especially objectionable 
and annoying. The large number of prisoners 
were guarded exclusively by colored regiments 
almost wholly made up of emancipated slaves, 
who were held in contempt, as inferiors, by the 
Confederates but recently their masters, who in 



48 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

turn made use of their temporary authority, 
too often in the most offensive manner. The men 
sent with Van Metre to Point Lookout proved to 
be the most disreputable creatures in the service, 
with whom he could have no association. His 
remorse and self-condemnation, with the un- 
healthy condition of the camp, produced a condi- 
tion of physical weakness which increased his 
irritability and made him peculiarly susceptible 
to annoyances which would not have disturbed a 
healthy man. 

What was he to do? He now appreciated that 
he ought to have given his true name to his cap- 
tors and to have announced that he was an 
escaped prisoner, on his way to join his own regi- 
ment when he was captured ; that he was tem- 
porarily with, but not attached to, Johnson's 
command. This duty he had neglected at the 
proper time when it should have been done. He 
could discover no practicable way of repairing his 
error. He was surrounded by ignorant guards ; 
there was no one with whom he could consult; 
every day's dela}'' seemed to render it more 
and more difficult for him to restore himself to 
the position he would have occupied if he had not 
suppressed his true name. He deemed it haz- 
ardous to attempt to communicate with his wife 
or with any one else under his assumed name; 
to do so under his true name would involve an 
explanation with consequences which he feared 



THE PRISONER AND HIS BETRAYER. 249 

might subject him to trial and condemnation by 
a court-martial. 

In this condition of uncertainty he passed sev- 
eral weeks. The number of prisoners at Point 
Lookout increased with every great battle, but 
none came from the valley— all were from other 
sections of the Confederacy and strangers to him. 
As the autumn rains came on, a type of fever 
began to prevail in the camp, and Van Metre was 
one of the first to be attacked. He fought 
against it as long and as well as he could, but 
toward the end of October he gave up, took to 
his bed, and in a few days was ordered to be 
transferred to that section of the camp which 
was called the hospital. 

There was then employed as a nurse in the 
fever ward of the hospital one of those creatures 
generated only by war or some other diseased 
condition of the public mind. He was probably 
m.ore despicable than was ever covered by a col- 
ored skin, or found elsewhere than in a prison 
camp. He would have sold himself for any one, 
even the smallest, of the thirty pieces paid to 
Judas. A bounty-jumper who had enhsted and 
deserted more times than was safe at the North, 
he had then enhsted with the Confederates, been 
captured, and was now seeking to ingratiate 
himself with the officers at Point Lookout by 
playing the character of a voluntary pimp and 
spy. Taking advantage of Van Metre's weak 



250 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

condition and his strong desire for the counsel 
and sympathy of a man of his own color, this 
wretch had adroitly wormed himself into his con- 
fidence, ascertained his real name and regiment, 
his escape from Camp Chase, his success in 
reaching the army of Virginia on his way to his 
own regiment, then supposed to be near Staun- 
ton or Harrisonburg. He had volunteered, for 
a compensation, to mail a letter which Van Metre 
was extremely desirous of sending to his wife. 
Knowing that, unless surreptitiously, no letter 
could leave the cam}) written by him under any 
other name than that of Thompson, he had paid 
the fellow his last coin to dejDosit a letter to his 
wife in his own name. Such a letter would then 
have reached Mrs. Van Metre, for at that time 
Clarke County, where she resided, was within the 
Union lines. The wretch pocketed the bribe, 
carried the letter to the officer in command of 
the post, and informed him that the writer was 
a Confederate spy whose name w^as Van Metre. 
That officer having ascertained that Van Metre 
was too ill at that time to do any harm or to 
attempt to escape, contented himself with in- 
creased watchfulness over him, and at the same 
time extended that watchfulness to the informer, 
whose good faith was soon brought under vehe- 
ment suspicion. 

The prisoner very soon discovered how basely 
he had been cheated and betrayed. He was then 



THE PRISONER AND HIS BETRAYER, 251 

in the delirious stage of the fever, and but for a 
fortunate accident would probably never have 
recovered the exercise of his reason. With the 
singular secretiveness sometimes exhibited by the 
insane, he concealed his suspicions, suppressed 
his resentment, and even professed to bestow upon 
the creature an increased measure of confidence 
and friendship. In some way never disclosed, 
and which the officers did not exhibit a very irre- 
pressible desire to investigate, he possessed him- 
self of one of the heavy rawhides wielded by the 
army teamsters in the process of disciplining re- 
fractory mules. For many days he kept the 
weapon concealed in his cot under his body. The 
day of retribution came, when Providence deliv- 
ered the scoundrel into the hands of his victim. 
There was no one to molest or make him afraid. 
The guards outside, ordinarily quick to come at 
any unaccustomed sound, were that day unac- 
countably deaf. It was no part of the duty of 
the patients in the ward to interfere. Van Metre 
rose from his cot, and as no one sought to prevent 
him, so long as his strength held out he scored 
his revenge in red, swollen ridges and bloody 
welts upon the face, neck, chest, and shoulders 
of his betrayer. Then he went back to his cot, 
with his strength exhausted, in the frenzy of 
brain fever, and for many days was mercifully 
unconscious of his surroundings. 

Then his naturally vigorous constitution was 



252 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

left to fight the battle for life against the com- 
bined forces of disease, imprisonment, and negli- 
gence without outside interference. One hour 
he was burning with fever, the next his lips were 
blue and his teeth rattling with convulsive chills. 
The carelessness of human life, the gross negli- 
gence involved, may be imperfectly comprehended 
by the fact that when the stripes of his castiga- 
tion were healed, the malicious bounty-jumjDer 
and detective fraud was permitted to return and 
have charge of the ward in which Van Metre 
suffered. His infamous brain conceived the pro- 
ject of destroying the helpless prisoner by neglect 
and exposure. Under the lying pretext that he 
was dangerous in his madness, iron shackles were 
locked upon his wrists and ankles, and his body 
became the feeding- ground of parasites and ver- 
min. His accursed ingenuity in devising new 
methods of torture would have done credit to an 
Indian. I will not shock the nerves of the reader 
by any further account of his devilish devices. 
They operated slowly, but with a certainty and 
a keenness of suffering that would have shocked 
the sensibilities of the monster who made Ander- 
sonville celebrated as the theatre of his crimes 
and the scene of his final punishment. 



CHAPTEE XXIV. 

" WHAT I DID FOR HIM I THOUGHT SOME NORTHERN 
WOMAN MIGHT DO FOR MY HUSBAND." 

Those who were accustomed to visit the hos- 
pitals during the battle summer of 1864, among 
their memories of pain, suffering, and death will 
recall one delightful picture. It was that of 
woman, with the crown royal, arrayed like 
Vashti the queen to show the people her beauty. 
She was met in every ward, in every hospital, in 
the early morning, at midday, and at midnight. 
She represented every station in life: wealthy 
ladies who spent all their time and more than 
their income in relieving the pain and torture of 
the sick and wounded ; wives of mechanics and 
laboring men; colored women, old and young, 
very poor in this world's goods, but not so poor 
that each one could not bring a basket of delica- 
cies to distribute to the patients ; the Sisters of 
Charity, those efficient Catholic nurses whose 
quiet influence pervaded the fever wards and 
controlled the delirium of the fever-stricken — all 
these and others, many others, were found con- 
stantly employed in some work of charity, some 
mission of relief to suffering men. 

353 



254 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

There were a few of these ladies whose influ- 
ence was exercised over a broader stage. These 
went from camp to camp, from hospital to hos- 
pital, searching out and correcting frauds and 
abuses. These last were the special favorites of 
Secretary Stanton and could always count upon 
his co-operation. They were as cordially disliked 
by unfaithful managers of these institutions, 
who were in many instances brought to justice 
through their influence. 

There was a veteran general whose fighting 
days were ended in the war with Mexico, whose 
name had long been on the retired list, but who 
still retained some capacity for work, which he 
desired to employ in some manner in the service 
of his country. He had offered his services to 
Secretary Stanton, who, with that excellent judg- 
ment which he usually showed in the selection of 
men for positions of difficulty, promptly accepted 
his offer and requested him to visit, inspect, and 
report upon the camps where the Confederate 
prisoners of war were confined. The general 
was admirably adapted to such a responsible 
duty, which required good judgment and a sharp 
eye not to be deceived by preparations in antici- 
pation of a visit of inspection. 

This officer had a daughter who inherited her 
father's energy and many other of his excellent 
qualities. Her husband, a brave general of divi- 
sion, had fallen in the supreme moment of a 



"what I DID FOR HIM," ETC. 255 

great battle in 1862. Instead of yielding to so 
great a sorrow, she had risen above it and deter- 
mined to continue, so far as she could, that service 
to the country which her brave husband could no 
longer render. She had become her father's sec- 
retary, his constant attendant on his tours of in- 
spection, and had become very efficient in the 
discharge of her duties. It was impossible to 
conceal from the sharjD eyes of this father and 
daughter any evidences of negligence or inatten- 
tion to duty. They were the terror of unfaithful 
superintendents. On the most unexpected occa- 
sions they would suddenly make their appearance, 
to the great profit and advantage of the prisoners 
and the dismay of incompetent officials. 

The demonstration of General Early against 
the city of Washington and its narrow escape 
from capture in July, 1864, had sharply called 
public attention to the condition of the prisoners' 
carnp at Point Lookout. The existence of this 
camp had not been regarded as important. But 
when General Bradley Johnson, with five thou- 
sand cavalrymen, was detached from Early's army 
on the Monocacy and sent to cut the railroads 
north of Baltimore, and was rapidly approaching 
a camp of twenty thousand healthy prisoners, 
guarded only by two colored regiments which 
had never been in battle, the North was suddenly 
aroused to the magnitude of the danger. But 
for the arrival of two divisions of the Sixth CorjDs 

17 



256 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

at Washington, which compelled General Early 
to recall General Johnson and make a hasty re- 
treat across the Potomac, the camp at Point 
Lookout would almost certainly have heen cap- 
tured and its twenty thousand recruits have been 
furnished to the army of General Lee, free of 
the cost of exchange. 

Soon after the retreat of General Early many 
of the prisoners at Point Lookout were sent to 
other camps. The active movements of the army 
before Richmond, followed by Sheridan's cam- 
paign in the valley, attracted public attention to 
other points, and Point Lookout came to be re- 
garded as of no special importance. It thus 
became one of the places where the experience of 
the veteran inspector had shown that abuses 
would rapidly develop which would require his at- 
tention. 

Toward the middle of November, the general 
and his daughter made their unexpected appear- 
ance in the camp at Point Lookout. They swept 
through all its departments with a rapidity 
which gave the officers in charge no time to get 
ready. They met even upon their cursory in- 
spection with a succession of shocks and sur- 
prises. Since the distribution of the prisoners to 
other camps in July, this depot had received large 
additions of prisoners from the field, and the 
number was now too large for the force of at- 
tendants and guards. But there was no excuse 



"what I DID FOR HIM," ETC. 257 

for the existing filth, and evidences of neglect of 
duty were overwhelming. The guards had ap- 
parently used reasonable diligence to prevent the 
escape of the prisoners, and had then left them 
to take care of themselves. It had never been 
the policy of the Government to neglect its pris- 
oners. Good food in abundance, clothing, med- 
icines, and medical attendance were supposed to 
be everywhere provided. Eegulations required 
that every part of the camp should be policed 
daily, and under all circumstances all the condi- 
tions of health were directed to be observed and 
secured. The lady continued her investigations 
after the first cursory inspection was completed. 
She had been disgusted by that inspection. It 
was evident that no attention had been given to 
the regulations and no attempt made to enforce 
them. Her dissatisfaction rose to fever heat 
when she entered the hospitals, which her father 
had not yet seen. It increased as she passed rap- 
idly through the wards. She had not reached 
the last one when she decided to suspend her in- 
spection until she could have the judgment of 
her father and his friend and associate. 

For the veteran general had a friend very 
much after his own heart who was a veteran 
surgeon. He stood at the head of his profession 
when he retired from active practice, and had 
been pleased to accept the invitation of his old 
military friend to accompany him on his inspec- 
17 



258 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

tions and assist him in relieving the suffering 
men whom the chances of war had for the time 
being made our prisoners. 

The father and his surgical expert were pressed 
by the daughter to complete their inspection of 
the camp and the hospitals without another 
hour's delay. They complied, first insisting 
upon the attendance of the surgeon in charge. 
He came. They demanded to know whether the 
stench, which almost overpowered them as they 
entered the first inclosure where prisoners were 
confined, was an indispensable necessity. The 
surgeon in charge undertook to explain it. He 
said it was due to the laziness of the prisoners, 
who would not keep their quarters in a cleanly 
condition. The prisoners furiously denied this 
statement, and offered to clean their quarters 
at once, if furnished with the necessary mate- 
rials and permitted to procure their own water, 
which they had not been allowed to do. The 
inspecting party went through the camp, and 
within an hour almost every prisoner was en- 
gaged in cleaning his person or his quarters. 
This reform, so easily instituted, was made perma- 
nent by the prompt removal of the surgeon, and 
its beneficial effects continued until peace dis- 
pensed with the necessity of any camp for pris- 
oners of war. 

The hour was so late that it was deemed nec- 
essary to postpone the visit to the fever wards un- 



"what I DID FOR HIM," ETC. 259 

til the following day. The delay was vehemently 
objected to by the daughter, on the ground that 
it would cost the lives of some of the patients she 
had already seen. Her associates did not believe 
that there was any foundation for her fears : they 
were of a different opinion before their inspection 
was completed. 

When they visited the hospitals next morning 
a single glance showed that they were an affront 
to the name. They were extensive. Disease 
had been prevalent; it had been spread by 
neglect and the patients were counted by hun- 
dreds. The indignation of the party grew hotter 
as they progressed, for each ward seemed filthier 
than the last they had passed through. They 
entered what were called the fever wards. The 
fever was prevalent and almost every patient 
was delirious. The fetid atmosphere, the horri- 
ble expressions of insanity made the place resem- 
ble the incurable wards of a mad-house. It was 
a hard trial for the lady to endure ; but she would 
not retreat. I shall spare my readers the horrors 
of the picture which met their astonished eyes. 
She finally led them to a room at which she had 
taken a hasty glance the night before. 

It was crowded with cots, in every one of which 
lay a fever -stricken man. In one of them, upon 
a bed of straw, reeking with filth, in undercloth- 
ing which had not been changed for months, 
were the almost fleshless remains of what had 



260 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

once been a healthy man. His hollow, sunken 
eyes were wild with the insane fire of fever, 
which was burning up the strength and consum- 
ing the juices of his body. The grime of his 
face could not conceal its ashen pallor ; his beard, 
the growth of months, and his matted hair were 
alive with unmentionable vermin. His parched 
lips, seamed with bloody cracks, opened with diffi- 
culty, and as he saw them looking at the name 
over his head, his weak voice struggled to say : 
"No! no! Not Thompson! My name is Van 
Metre!" 

The general had to put forth all his energy to 
maintain his self-control. Turning to the sur- 
geon of the camp, he demanded in a voice which 
was piercing in its intensity: "Where is the man 
who is responsible for the care of this prisoner?" 

A wretch with the mouth of a rat and the 
general expression of a hyena, every feature of 
whose face was vile, had been chattering in the 
rear of the party that the man was insane ; that 
he had tried to kill his attendants; that he would 
not obey their directions ; that it had been neces- 
sary to restrain him, etc. He was pointed out 
'to the visitors as the nurse. 

The general called for a sergeant and a file of 
men. As soon as they came he said: "Put that 
man under guard in a safe place. If necessary 
put him in irons. Let him escape at your peril ! 
There — take him away!" 



"what I DID FOR HIM," ETC. 2G1 

He was obeyed. By the suggestion of his con- 
sulting surgeon he ordered a tent to be j)repared 
in the only shaded place in the vicinity. Very 
tenderly was poor Van Metre placed upon a 
stretcher and carried to a bath-room, where by 
the administration of stimulants, with great 
care the grime and filth were removed from his 
body, his head and face were shaved and their 
living tenants were extii'imted. Then he was 
carried to the tent, provided with underclothing, 
and placed between clean sheets on a soft mat- 
tress. Strengthening restoratives were adminis- 
tered and a regimen prescribed which secured 
him a repose of several hours. 

Notwithstanding his fortunate discovery by the 
efficient relief party, the condition of Van Metre 
continued to be very precarious. The exertion 
of his necessary ablution and of cleansing him 
from the grime which coated his person, followed 
by the exhaustion of a long and profound sleep, 
produced a succession of fainting fits which could 
only be arrested by powerful stimulants. The 
veteran surgeon advised the employment of an 
experienced nurse who would not relax his vigi- 
lance for a moment, for the neglect of that mo- 
ment might prove fatal. Such a nurse was 
found with less difficulty than the surgeon antic- 
ipated. The sympathies of the general's daugh- 
ter had been powerfully excited by the sufferings 
of the prisoner and the brutality of his attend- 



2G2 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

ant. With a firmness not unlilve tliat shown by 
Mrs. Van Metre on lier first visit to tlie room of 
the wounded and deserted officer, and it may have 
been for a hke cause, she announced her purpose 
to become the nurse of the maltreated prisoner 
and the guide of his trembhng steps on the road 
to convalescence. Neither the surgeon nor her 
father remonstrated, for a human life was in- 
volved. The former prepared the remedies which 
were to be administered whenever the patient 
awoke to consciousness. She took her seat by 
his bedside and commenced a vigil of watchful- 
ness which was not relaxed until the patient was 
declared free from immediate danger. 



CHAPTER XXV. 

AND THE RECOMPENSE OF A MAN'S HANDS SHALL 
BE RENDERED UNTO HIM. 

In the last year of the war there were deaths 
from wounds so slight that they scarcely attracted 
attention until their fatal character was estab- 
lished. There were other cases of recovery from 
wounds so severe that they went far toward es- 
tablishing the claims of those who believed in 
faith cures and miraculous interpositions. In the 
cases first named, the patient was depressed, 
hopeless, indifferent whether he lived or died; 
in the second, he was either cheered by hope or 
encouraged by duty. A wounded soldier among 
strangers, suffering an agony of pain, treated as 
if he were an animal or a machine, with no one 
to care for or sympathize with him, would often 
welcome death as a deliverer and a friend, when 
the same man upon the appearance in the hos- 
pital of a wife, a sister, or even of a stranger who 
sympathized with him or took some interest in 
his recovery, at once lifted him out of his de- 
spondency and placed him in the way to health 
and convalescence. 

The influence upon Van Metre of the unremit- 
263 



2G4 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE, 

ting care of his volunteer nurse, and especially 
her avowed purpose to watch him closely, to 
secure for him every advantage, and see that he 
lost no opportunity of improvement, was most 
favorable. And there was another occurrence 
about the same time which multiplied his favor- 
able chances. His betrayer was brought into his 
presence, and there occurred a scene which very 
closely resembled the one witnessed by Bedell in 
his dream, which it will be remembered was by 
him related to Mrs. Van Metre when he was first 
taken to her home. The fact that the knavery 
of his betrayer had been detected by strangers 
without his intervention, and the prospect that 
the criminal would be brought to justice and 
punished, planted a new hoi:>e in his mind that he 
might live and v/itness the infliction of that pun- 
ishment. But there could have been no substi- 
tute for the untiring industry of the general's 
daughter. The veteran surgeon had prejmred 
the stimulating remedies he prescribed with his 
own hands. They were to be administered as 
often as the patient showed any signs of waking. 
The general's daughter then seated herself by 
the bedside of the patient; the remedies were 
within reach of her hand. A trained nurse was 
in tlie adjoining room within her call. There 
she kept her faithful watch, administering as 
often as every hour some refreshing or stimulat- 
ing remedy, until by the second morning the 



THE RECOMPENSE OP A MAN'S HANDS. 2G5 

strength of the patient was unexpectedly in- 
creased, his condition was more promising than 
the surgeon had anticipated, and he was declared 
to be on the high-road to recovery. 

The experience of Van Metre bore a close re- 
semblance to that of Bedell in another respect. 
Bedell was no more confident that he was pre- 
served from death by the ministrations of Mrs. 
Van Metre during the first night after his discov- 
ery by her, than Van Metre was that he owed his 
life to the watchful nursing of the general's 
daughter during the night following his removal 
from the hospital ward to the tent at Point 
Lookout. He was in truth reduced to the last 
degree of weakness. A few hours more of that 
murderous, intentional negligence, and nothing 
short of a miracle could have saved him. The 
flame of his life was flickering so feebly that a 
breath would have extinguished it. The ex- 
haustion of his first sleep would have been fatal 
but for the judgment and watchful care of his 
nurse and her strict observance of the directions 
of the veteran surgeon. 

He was now moderately certain of recovery if 
the danger of a relapse could be avoided. Noth- 
ing but incessant care could prevent such a mis- 
fortune, but of that care he was now assured. 
Although he was no longer tortured by the wild 
images of delirium, reason did not immediately 
resume her full empire over his mind. His mem- 



2GG AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

cry was more impaired than his other mental 
powers; sometimes it seemed wholly lost, and 
then his efforts to recall past events were painful 
to witness. He seemed to be aware that he had 
done some wrong — something for which he was 
liable to punishment, but what it was he could 
not recall. He made desperate efforts to remem- 
ber it, and failing believed he had become idiotic. 
These efforts were a heavy tax upon his vitality, 
and his nurse labored diligently to prevent their 
recurrence. 

At length a morning came when he was able 
to remember the past and to comprehend his 
present. His nurse, relieved from the necessity 
of continuous attendance, was paying him a visit. 
Her interest in his recovery was unabated and her 
visits sufficiently frequent to secure him against 
farther inattention. 

"I have a confession to make to you," he said 
to her. " I fear you will have no faith in me after 
you have heard it. But I have suffered enough 
by deception. Now I wish to have every one know 
the truth." 

"There is an old saying that confession is good 
for the soul," she replied. "However, I do not 
see how you, a prisoner, could have committed 
any offence while you have been sick and in 
prison. Of what do you accuse yourself?" 

" Of permitting others to misrepresent me and 
not correcting them," he said. "My name is not 



THE RECOMPENSE OF A MAN'S HANDS. 267 

Thompson. It is Van Metre, and I am an es- 
caped prisoner. But I am not a spy, as that vil- 
lain who had control of me falsely stated." 

"What of all that? To pass by a false name 
may be deception, but it is no crime. What gave 
you such an idea?" 

" I was a prisoner, confined at Camp Chase in 
Columbus, Ohio. With a number of other jDrison- 
ers I escaped, as I suppose I had the right to do. 
Those who got away from the prison separated. 
After many hardships, almost naked and starved, 
I reached the army of General Lee before Eich- 
mond, on my way to my own regiment, which I 
supposed was somewhere in the upper portion of 
the valley. I had not joined any regiment since 
my escape. If I had done so without being ex- 
changed I suppose I should have been subject to 
punishment. I permitted another prisoner to 
give a false name for mine because I feared that, 
finding me with Johnson's division, I should be 
treated and punished as having joined it. Since 
my confinement here I have written a letter in 
my true name to my wife, which the villain who 
had charge of me was hired to mail. Instead of 
naailing, he delivered it to the officer in command 
of this post, and told him a lot of lies about my 
being a Confederate spy. I assure you that I have 
done no other wrong." 

"I do not believe you are guilty of any offence 
whatever," said the spirited woman. "If you 



268 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

are, it cannot be one of much account. You 
have done right in disclosing it to me. I will 
consult my father, who will advise you wisely and 
I am certain will stand your friend. In the 
mean time is there anything farther that I can do 
for vou?'' 

" Yes. There is one very great favor which I 
fear will not be granted until my miserable de- 
ception is cleared up. In all these live months 
my poor wife near Berry ville has not heard from 
me, nor have I had any message from her. She 
must think that I am dead or, what is worse, that 
I have forgotten or abandoned her. If the officer 
in command of this station would permit me to 
write her a brief letter, telling her that I am liv- 
ing and explaining why she has not heard from 
me during this long and weary time, I would ask 
no other favor. Poor woman ! she is in my mind 
every hour and every moment when I am in con- 
trol of my senses." 

" There is no reason of which I can conceive 
why you should not have such a letter written 
and forwarded to-day," she said. The assurance 
relieved his fears and produced upon his despond- 
ent mental condition a better effect than medi- 
cine. As soon as the facts were communicated 
to him, the officer in command of the camp 
promptly consented that the fact of the prisoner's 
existence, condition, and place of confinement 
should be made known to his wife bv letter ad- 



THE RECOMPENSE OF A MAN'S HANDS. 269 

dressed to her via Harper's Ferry. The letter 
was written and mailed. It reached Harper's 
Ferry without any delay, but the Union army 
had been withdrawn and the region around Berry- 
ville was again under Confederate control. The 
letter accordingly remained in the post-office at 
Harper's Ferry, undelivered. At the time Mrs. 
Van Metre and Bedell were arranging to begin 
their search, this letter, which M'ould have relieved 
their anxieties and informed them where Van 
Metre v/as, lay in the post-office at Harper's Ferry, 
where they then were. They had no knowledge 
of it, and so far as they were concerned it might 
just as well have been at the north pole. 

The small but efficient party of inspection, which 
might well have been called a relief party, knew 
that in such a camp the fatality was largely due 
to mental causes, and they devoted themselves to 
schemes and plans for the occupation of the minds 
of the prisoners. Van Metre had his full share of 
their attention. They encouraged him with the 
hope of his own recovery, of again seeing his 
home and his wife, who would have her solicitude 
relieved by his letter, and would probably within 
a few days transmit her reply. The general far- 
ther increased his chances of recovery by pointing 
out to him that his evidence would be necessary to 
convict his villanous guard, whom he proposed to 
bring to trial before a court-martial. His duty to 
bring that wretch to justice, and the hope which 



270 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

these encouragements brought to a heart from 
which it had long been absent, gave the mind of 
the patient constant and healthful occupation, 
until other duties called the general and his skil- 
ful associates to other fields of usefulness. 

They left the camp before their patient had 
gained such a measure of physical strength that 
unassisted nature could accomplish his cure. The 
surroundings of the place became more depressing 
with the approach of winter. The camp was on 
a low and narrow peninsula, with a broad marsh 
on one side and the river on the other. There 
was not a hill, there was scarcely a human dwell- 
ing near it. There were a few trees on the slight 
elevation where his tent was pitched, but no other 
vegetation except that of the marshes in view. 
His removal to the tent, of which he was the only 
occupant-, from the close and crowded wards of 
the shed dignified with the name of the hospital, 
and the excellent care which he continued to re- 
ceive, would have protected him against a relapse 
if he had not been previously reduced to a degree 
of weakness which was very near to death. The 
general's daughter exercised a powerful influence 
over him. For some days after her departure he 
lived upon her memory and managed to bear 
himself fairly well. But as day followed day 
and one long night followed another, and no re- 
ply came to his letter, no news from his home, no 
message from his wife, having no one to lean 
upon and left wholly to his own resources, he be- 



THE RECOMPENSE OF A MAN'S HANDS. 271 

gan to lose the strength he had gained. There 
is no depression to which man can be subjected 
so disheartening as that which accompanies the 
weakness of fever. The dark cloud which ob- 
scures the vision shuts out all hope, all light. 
It is then that the patient needs all his conscience, 
all his moral principle, for the devil never leaves 
him — never ceases to whisper in his ear: "Why 
do you continue to suffer? You have become 
worthless — good for nothing for yourself or 
others ! Why not avail yourself of suicide, your 
best, your only friend ?" 

It was a time of great mortality in that crowded 
camp. The dense fogs which every morning as- 
cended from the broad marsh were laden with 
malaria. An active fever became prevalent which 
struck down its victims within two or three days 
from the first attack. From his cot through the 
door of his tent, every morning Van Metre wit- 
nessed the long procession moving from the hos- 
pital toward the piece of fiat marsh which had 
been inclosed by a rude fence and called the cem- 
etery, where men were laid in ditches without 
prayer or other ceremony. Finally he gave up 
all hope of recovery and looked forward to the 
day, which could not be far distant, when he him- 
self would be one of those borne in that long and 
dreary procession. Leaving him in this despond- 
ing condition, our history returns to those who 
were now to test the verity of the promise, " Seek 
and ye shall find!" 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH; NO, NOT 
IN ISRAEL." 

The fact that according to the records Van 
Metre was no longer a prisoner nor under the con- 
trol of the Federal authorities might have dis- 
couraged a less determined man, but it served to 
inspire Bedell with a fiercer resolution. He re- 
peated to himself over and over again that only 
fools and old women believed in dreams. Yet 
that dream of his implied that Van Metre was 
still a prisoner — that he had been very ill — that 
he was then in good hands and recovering. He 
counted the dream as worthless rubbish, but at 
the same time it led him to adhere to his deter- 
mination formed upon all the facts and circum- 
stances, as soon as he learned that his name was 
not on the list of prisoners, that he would not 
abandon the search until he had found Van Metre 
or inspected every prisoner of war who then re- 
mained under Federal control. 

The officers in charge of the Bureau of Prison- 
ers at Washington entered upon the subject of 
the search with great interest. In fact their zeal, 

272 



"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH." 273 

excited by the pathetic face and gentle dignity of 
the wife, led them astray and protracted the 
search. Had they directed Bedell in the first in- 
stance to the camp where the largest number of 
prisoners captured by the Army of the Potomac 
in the campaign of 1SG4 had been sent, and where 
presumptively the chances of finding his man 
would have been best, they would have found 
him in the first camp examined, in the tent at 
Point Lookout. 

He had been sent, as the records showed, to 
Camp Chase at the time of his original cajjture. 
Although his escape from that camp was rej)orted, 
he might have been recaptured or his pursuers 
might have got some trace of him which would 
indicate where he was or otherwise assist in the 
search. They did not altogether discredit the 
indefinite rumor that he had been seen among the 
cai^tured of General Johnson's division near Spott- 
sylvania. Those prisoners had been distributed 
to different camps ; some of them to Camp Chase. 
On the whole, it was decided that Camp Chase 
was the best jwint for commencing the search. 

Provided with transportation and armed with 
all the authority and facilities which the War De- 
partment could furnish, Mrs. Van Metre and her 
escort set out upon their search. There were 
several camps to be examined, some of them 
containing as many as twenty thousand captives, 
for up to that time no general exchange of pris- 
18 



274 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE, 

cners had been arranged, and some one was mor- 
ally responsible for thousands of lives lost by the 
delay. It was no child's play to examine the face 
of every individual in one of these multitudes. 
For the plan upon which Bedell insisted involved 
also the inspection of every cot in the hospitals 
and of every name in the records of the dead. 
Every facility and assistance was rendered by the 
authorities at most of the camps. Commencing 
at Camp Chase, a station was provided, the men 
were turned out in detachments and in single file 
slowly marched past the searchers, who were thus 
able to scrutinize every face. This done, they 
went through every ward and examined every 
patient in the hosj^ital, completing their work by 
a close inspection of the records of the dead. This 
work occupied several days in each camp, and it 
was thoroughly done. 

And so they went from camp to camp perform- 
ing their sad, monotonous duty. They had per- 
formed it in most of them ; only two or three 
remained to be examined. By the persistent en- 
couragement of Bedell, the hope and courage of 
the patient wife had been fairly well maintained. 
But now her strength was yielding, and as these 
many days of patient search produced nothing, her 
hope and courage were failing with her strength. 
They were just completing a tour in a hospital, 
the last thing to be done in one of the large camps, 
when she began to hang with her full weight 



"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH." 275 

upon the arm of her escort, and then she sank 
wearied and fainting to the floor. 

They laid her upon an unoccupied cot; the 
attendants gathered about her and endeavored 
to restore her by the use of the common remedies 
in such cases. All were attracted by the refined 
expression of her face, and in answer to an in- 
quiry Lieutenant Bedell mentioned her name. 
It reached the ear of a sick man in an adjacent 
cot. 

"Who is that lady?" he abruptly asked of his 
attendant. 

"She is a lady from the valley of Virginia," 
replied the attendant. " Her husband was a soldier 
in the Confederate army who has been captured 
and if living is now a prisoner. She has not 
heard from him in many months. On account 
of some kindness she has shown to a Union officer, 
the Secretary of War has given her an order for 
the discharge of her husband and authorized her 
to search for him through all the camps. She 
expected to find him here. She has not found 
him and now it is almost certain that he is dead. 
We all feel very sorry for her, for she is a very 
sweet woman and must be dreadfully disap- 
pointed. They say that she saved the life of the 
Union officer who is with her." 

"Did I not hear some one call her Mrs. Van 
Metre?" asked the sick man. 

"Yes. Her name is Van Metre," said the 



27G AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

nurse, " There is some doubt about the jDlace 
where her husband was captured. He was first 
captured near Front Royal, in the valley : there 
is also a rumor that he was taken with Johnson's 
division in the great battle near Spottsylvania 
Court -House." 

" Van Metre? Van Metre?" exclaimed the sick 
man. " If I were not so weak and forgetful I am 
almost certain that I could tell that lady some- 
thing about her husband. Let me think!" he 
continued. "Yes! it was after we were taken 
at Spottsylvania ; and there was some trouble. 
If the lady remains here over night I will try and 
think hov/ it was." 

To fly to the sorrowing wife and relight the 
dying taper of hope in her heart by telling her that 
here was one who possibly knew something about 
her husband, was the loving mission of the nurse. 
For everywhere the gentle woman and her noble 
though crippled escort went, they made friends 
who wished to enlist in their service. Bedell im- 
mediately consulted with the surgeon, who di- 
rected them to be very cautious with the sick 
man. He had been delirious, was still very weak, 
and excitement might cause a return of his fever 
with all its dangerous symptoms. The surgeon 
took a deep interest in the matter, and offered him- 
self not only to get the man into a condition for the 
exercise of his memory, but to draw the story 
from him in its most authentic form. 



"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH." 277 

Bedell and Mrs. Van Metre, while burning with 
impatience to hear the sick man's story, recog- 
nized the wisdom of the doctor's advice. Their 
solicitude was so great that neither of them slept 
during the night, which seemed to both one of 
the longest they had ever passed. 

In the morning the patient was reported to be 
in his right mind. He insisted upon the presence 
of Mrs. Van Metre with the surgeon, and in a 
very weak voice but with a memory apparently 
very clear he made the following communication : 

He belonged, he said, to Johnson's division. 
He distinctly remembered a man who strongly 
resisted capture on the ground that he did not 
belong to the division and was a non-combatant 
who was present by accident. When the division 
was carried to the Union rear, this man was in 
or near the centre of the mass of men, and before 
he could make his way to the outside they were 
a long way within the Union lines. Even then 
he made an attempt to burst through the strong 
line of the guards — was seized by two or three of 
them and threatened with violence if he did not 
submit. He gave up when overpowered by main 
force, but when required to pledge himself to go 
with the others quietly farther to the rear, re- 
fused to make any promise, and said he should 
endeavor to make his escape at the first opportu- 
nity. An officer undertook to reason with him, 
and to show him that by farther efforts he might 



278 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

comijel them to do him some great personal in- 
jury. He endeavored to make him promise to 
march quietly back with the others until they 
were turned over to the commissary. 

He would make no promise. He told the offi- 
cer that it might be better for him to die then 
and there than to lead the life of a prisoner. 
When the names and regiments of the others 
were taken, he said he did not belong to any regi- 
ment and would give no name. Some one of the 
prisoners said his name was John Thompson, of 
some Arkansas regiment. When asked if that 
was his name, he replied, "That name will do as 
well as any other." When the body of the pris- 
oners moved on, he was left with four or five 
others under a special guard. The sick man 
heard that his name was Van Metre and that his 
home was in the valley. So much he learned from 
men who claimed to know him. 

This was all the patient personally knew. He 
heard afterward that Van Metre was believed to 
be insane, and with a small number of others 
equally unmanageable had been sent directly 
across the river to Point Lookout, to a large camp 
of Confederate prisoners. 

While this account was rather incoherent and 
wholly failed to furnish any information as to 
Van Metre's present locality, it nevertheless, if it 
were true, proved that he had reached the army 
after his escape from Camp Chase, and had been 



"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH." 279 

again taken prisoner at Spottsylvania. It thus 
gave them a new starting-point in the search. 
Bedell was much more hopeful than his associate. 
She did not place much confidence in the sick 
man's report, though she joyfully accepted it as 
the first evidence which she had secured that her 
husband was living at so late a period as the bat- 
tle of Spottsylvania. They were then nearly four 
hundred miles away from Point Lookout, and they 
traversed the distance as swiftly as they could be 
transported by the power of steam. Bedell was 
now confident of success and so sanguine that he 
succeeded in imparting some of his confidence to 
his dejected travelling companion. 

Even this small measure of success was fortu- 
nate. In any enterprise of difficulty, vigorous 
health and a hopeful temperament are the best 
equipment. More than once the discouraged wife 
would have given up the search but for Bedell, 
and now just when they were approaching success, 
one who lacked his push and energy would have 
been driven from the track by official incapacity. 
For when they reached Camp Lookout, the wife 
worn down by her exertions and almost overcome 
by depression, they found it the largest they had 
encountered, and that the inspection of twenty 
thousand men would be a long and fatiguing task. 
The officer in charge, unacquainted with the cir- 
cumstances, took only a perfunctory interest in 
the work. He did not intend to disobey the Sec- 



280 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

retary's order, he said. There the prisoners were, 
twenty thousand of them. They could examine 
them at their pleasure. He did not intend to in- 
terfere with or take any responsibility for the 
proceeding. 

There was a report current at the time that his 
indifference raised the indignation of the Green 
Mountaineer to concert pitch. He informed the 
officer that unless he facilitated the examination 
by ordering the prisoners to be brought out in 
detachments and marched in single file past Mrs. 
Van Metre, so that she could plainly see the face 
of every one of them, he would go directly to Sec- 
retary Stanton and let him know with how little 
respect his order was treated. He had an impres- 
sion, he said, that the Secretary would find a way 
to interest that officer in the search. 

The emphasis with which Bedell declared his 
purpose and his familiar reference to Secretary 
Stanton, who was a special terror to the "how- 
not-to-do-it" subordinates of the War Department, 
proved effective. The officer in command made 
'a virtue of necessity and declared that he would 
do anything within the bounds of reason that Be- 
dell requested. It is due to him to say that no 
complaint could have been made of his subsequent 
conduct in the premises. 

Under the lieutenant's active supervision ar- 
rangements were made for a very thorough 
search. A tent was pitched in a convenient place 



"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH." 281 

in which Mrs. Van Metre could sit and see every 
face in succession, v^ithout heing herself exposed 
to the public gaze, while the prisoners in single 
file were slowly marching by. The arrangements 
occupied the short December day, and the move- 
ment of the prisoners was necessarily postponed 
until the following morning. 

When the morning came it seemed as though 
nature was conspiring with the evils of war to 
tax this burdened wife beyond her power to en- 
dure. She had passed a sleepless, restless night. 
The morning was inexpressibly dreary. A thick, 
chilling fog covered the camp and its surround- 
ings, shutting out the rays and warmth of the sun. 
Her strength and her hope were both exhausted. 
Bedell knew how to inspire her to the last exer- 
tion of which she was capable. It was by an ap- 
peal to her sense of duty. He had been long 
enough a soldier to know what above all other 
remedies would restore strength to the exhausted 
body. With his own hands he prepared her 
breakfast of coffee and crackers, and pointed out 
to her that she must by their use strengthen her- 
self for a duty that might have her husband for 
its reward. She responded as well as she could. 
Under the influence of the benignant draught she 
walked to the raised platform just inside the tent 
used for the jjurpose of the review, seated herself 
upon it, and the long procession began its move- 
ment. 



282 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

When the first prisoner appeared she looked 
into his face with eager eyes, for then her strength 
and her hope were both at their highest level. 
She knew that her trial would occupy several 
hours. She had striven with all her resolution to 
qualify herself to endure it. One by one — one 
by one, for those long and weary hours, the slow 
funereal procession moved on. Like the brave, 
true woman she was, she summoned all her 
strength to maintain her composure and her hope. 
The lieutenant bravely continued to encourage 
and sustain her with cheerful suggestions and 
hopeful counsels. But the trial was too severe 
for poor humanity to sustain. As prisoner after 
prisoner passed on and the face of the one she 
sought appeared not, the light of hope began to die 
out of her eyes, the pallor of weariness to cover her 
face, and when some voice of doom called out, 
"This is the very last file that is passing," it was 
as if the waves of despair were rolling over and 
ingulfing her soul beneath their cruel waters, for 
she knew that her husband was not there. 

No! no! The very last had not yet passed. It 
was some stolid creature, careless of the death 
pangs of hope in a breaking heart, that raised that 
false and cruel cry. The very last file had not 
passed. In this camp they had first inspected the 
records of the dead, for there the discouraged 
wife had feared that the name they sought would 
be found. How else than by his death could his 



"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH." 283 

long silence be explained? His name was not 
upon the long death-roll. They had next gone 
through every ward in the hospital, and as they 
supposed had seen every living prisoner whose 
name was not upon the general roster. They 
had not. The general who had inspected the 
camp had found a few tents not in use. He knew 
their value to save men who would die in an in- 
closed building. He had ordered these tents to 
be pitched on some elevated ground, and into them 
some thirty very sick men had been removed who 
were now convalescent. 

These patients were next directed to form a 
line. They did so with sullen murmurings and 
complaints, for they with recovered health had 
lost the will and almost the power of physical 
movement. And the wife was almost compelled 
by Bedell to again take her place in the reviewing 
tent. She did it with the feeling of one com- 
pelled to reascend the scaffold because the hang- 
man's rope had broken on the first trial. She took 
her seat; she awaited their coming, inanimate, 
hopeless almost, as themselves. The chance that 
her husband was among them was too slender to 
sustain a hope. If he was not there, what a life 
of desolation lay before her! If he was not there 
he was dead. When and where he died she was 
never to know. If his bones were not bleaching 
upon some field of death, if stranger hands had 
covered them with his mother earth — he had been 



284 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

buried in an unrecorded grave — where it was or 
when he died, she should never know. 

She was listless and indifferent when they told 
her that the line was approaching. Some of those 
who formed it were feeble and moved very slowly, 
none of them with activity or animation. Bedell 
made one more effort to revive her spirits and 
rekindle her hope. It was too late. There was 
only one thing in the wide world that would 
now inspire her with the wish to live. She 
thanked Bedell in her heart for his kindness to 
her, and then she thought it pitiable that he 
should waste his time and energy upon one so 
useless as she deemed herself to be. By a last 
effort, as she believed it to be, of her will power, 
she raised her eyes high enough to scan the pass- 
ing faces. One ! two ! three — twenty of them had 
passed, and there was no life in her dull eye, no 
expression upon her stony face. Only ten re- 
main. More listless, cold, and hopeless than be- 
fore, she for the last time turns her head and 
glances down the short line over its diminished 
numbers. But mark! why does she start as if 
transfixed by a bolt of lightning launched from 
the hand of Jove"? Why does the light of life 
and love flame out from that weary eye? Why 
does that look of devout thanksgiving illuminate 
that stony face ? See! she starts! Like a mother 
leaping to grasp her child saved from sudden 
death, she bounds from her seat. Half-way 



"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH." 285 

down the line she marks a well-known form. 
Like an arrow from the bow she clears the inter- 
vening space, she grasps with all her revived 
strength the poor, pale, emaciated form of one 
who faints in her embrace, and the palpitating 
heart of her husband is beating against her own. 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR — ONE OF 
THEM TOUCHES THE END OF HIS SUFFERINGS. 

(Jf all the miseries of war imprisonment is the 
chief. There is no condition of hmnan existence 
so destructive to the life of the mind as well as 
the body as that of a prisoner of war. In all 
other species of confinement the man has some- 
thing to which he can look forward. He knows 
there is to be an end to it. The term is fixed in 
most cases, and when it is not he can determine 
it proximately. In our great civil war the only 
certainty the prisoner had was that there was to 
be no exchange. Escape or the end of the war 
alone would give him his freedom. After a brief 
experience few of them had the energy for an at- 
tempt to escape, and when the end of the war 
would come no man could foretell. 

Occupation is a necessity of human life. The 
mind unemployed always broods over the past. 
In the case of a healthy man protracted idleness 
inevitably causes desjDondency, and despondency 
too often death. Those who were in civil life saw 
the results and heard of the horrors of Anderson - 

286 



THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 287 

ville and Belle Isle. But we had no conception 
of the dread of the soldiers for those terrible hells. 
Many a brave man resisted to his death rather than 
to go to one of those prisons and slowly perish. 
"Surrender, or we will bayonet you!" shouted 
their pursuers to the belated skirmishers leaping 
from tie to tie on the railroad bridge across the 
Monocacy, when overtaken by an overwhelming 
Confederate force which captured only those upon 
which they could lay hands. The others crossed 
and threw themselves into the bushes, while their 
bayoneted companions fell forty feet into the 
river, some of them to survive the battle and the 
war. 

A'^an Metre had had experience in captivity for 
some months before his last capture. Even in 
Camp Chase, well known as the healthiest of the 
prison camps, hs had become so enfeebled that he 
believed death was inevitable, and so took the 
risk of attempting to escape. At Point Lookout, 
confined in an unhealthy locality, guarded by 
negroes with whom he could have no conversa- 
tion, he was very soon in a favorable condition of 
body for an early and a severe attack of the pre- 
vailing epidemic. Before describing his experi- 
ence more minutely, it may interest the reader to 
make a brief reference to the effects of confine- 
ment upon the prisoners in some of the other 
places of detention. 

In the experience of modern wars no place has 
19 



288 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE, 

ever approached in its horrors or its mortahty the 
prison pen of Andersonville. Its infernal de- 
structiveness may have been chargeable to a large 
extent to the ferocious brute who had it under 
control. But its condition was not altogether un- 
known to the Confederate authorities, for several 
Southern officers of high rank repeatedly protested 
against the cruelty of herding so large a number 
of prisoners there, under conditions so fatal to hu- 
man life. I am not discussing here the question 
of responsibility for it. It fully meets my pur- 
pose to make a statement which cannot be con- 
troverted, that every individual who was there for 
so long a term as three months perished if he 
did not make an intelligent fight for his life. 

I knew a young private who had wasted over 
a year in that horrible den, and who after Appo- 
mattox was released in a fairly good condition of 
health. I asked him how he managed to preserve 
his life when so many stronger men perished. 
He appeared to make no effort to control his emo- 
tions when he replied. 

"I ought,'" he said, "to blush with shame for 
my own selfishness when I answer that question. 
But I will try to answer it truly. When I was 
put inside of that stockade, all those thousands 
were living like burrowing animals in holes, 
wherever they could make an excavation. The 
water was foul and sickening — they could not get 
enousrh of it to wash their feet and hands once in 



THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 289 

ten days ; the food was insufficient in quantity 
and unfit for anything living to eat; their 
clothes were in rags— they seemed to have lost 
all desire for a decent appearance. They all 
had that look of hopeless despondency which I 
never saw elsewhere. They had no exercise. 
You may judge how they wanted it when I assure 
you that men fought for the privilege of going 
out each morning to bury the dead and to grub 
the roots of stumps and dead trees for a little 
wood. Their deaths were frequent and often in- 
explicable. They died without an effort to live. 
Men apparently as well as the average at sunset 
were cold in death before the next morning. 

"I had read in my boyhood of one prisoner who 
tamed a mouse, of another who cultivated a flower 
in his captivity. I knew now why they became 
so attached to these little objects. I knew that 
there was only one way for me to escape the com- 
mon fate. I must keep my mind and body both 
employed— not an easy thing to be done where 
every prisoner was searched and everything taken 
from him. I had a plug of tobacco and an old 
jack-knife which I managed to secrete when I 
was searched upon my arrival. I cut the tobacco 
into small cubes, and these were my stock in trade 
—my capital. These I traded for bits of candle, 
pieces of wood, buttons, a needle and thread— for 
anything of which any use could be made. I am 
ashamed to tell you how mean and selfish [ was. 



390 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

Until then I never knew how contemptible a 
wretch I could make of myself. I haggled, lied, 
argued, played the tricks of the horse-jockey. I 
have spent an hour and got very angry over one 
of these trades. I have sometimes traded a poor 
fellow out of something useful, and then given it 
back to him, for it was occupation and not profit 
I was seeking. I soon accumulated stock and 
became a capitalist, for I was economical and 
gave my whole time to my mercantile business. 
What a luxury it was to me to give to some poor 
dying man some little delicacy which I was able 
to jDurchase for him ! 

" Then the villain Wurtz did me a great favor. 
He robbed me of all my accumulations. He made 
me mad up to the point of recklessness. I told 
him to his face that he was a brute — a merciless 
wretch — a cold-blooded murderer. I expected 
that he would draw his revolver and shoot me 
down. Instead of that he cringed like the cow- 
ard he was. Then I told him that I should live 
to see him hung, and that I would be there at 
the entertainment if I had to walk barefooted a 
thousand miles. Thank God, I saw him hung! 
I was a witness on his trial. It was very wicked, 
I know, but when I saw him struggling in the 
agonies of death I prayed that they might be 
lengthened and drawn out until he paid for every 
one of his murders by a good half -hour of dying 
torture. I was a willing witness, and some of 



THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 291 

his judges said that my testimony was very con- 
vincing. 

" I say he did me a favor, for when he robbed me 
I was at first inclined to give up and fight for iife 
no longer. But the storm cleared my mind and 
made me resolve that the brute should not have 
the gratification of my death. I went again to 
my business, and I continued it until we left that 
dreadful place in advance of Sherman marching 
through Georgia. In short, by incessant occupa- 
tion of body and mind I saved my own life, when 
thousands of better and stronger men sank under 
the trial and were carried to their graves." 

Van Metre, when first taken prisoner, was a 
young man in vigorous health. He began to 
suff'er in Camp Chase, and he was weakened by 
hunger and exposure in making his way on foot 
and in the night all that long way from 
Central Ohio to the army of Virginia. His expe- 
riences from his second capture have already been 
described. When he was discovered by th'e daugh- 
ter of the Union general he was very near the end 
of his suffering and his life. In some respects 
his case was not unlike Bedell's, for his life had 
been saved by the ministrations of a woman. 
Her kindness and skilful nursing, her personal 
interest in him which again kindled hoj)e in his 
heart, had literally called him back from the bor- 
ders of the grave. But when she left him and 
went elsewhere, when day after day passed and 



292 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

brought no answer to his letter, no news of his 
wife or his home, he again gave up all hope, and 
lost with his strength all desire to live. He was 
waiting and praying for death when the hour of 
his delivery came. 

Our heroine's long search was ended now. The 
true-hearted woman of the valley brought the 
order for his discharge at the moment when she 
held him in her loving arms. But her trials were 
not all ended. The frail, emaciated being she had 
found was but a poor substitute for the strong, 
vigorous husband she had given to the Confed- 
eracy. He could scarcely stand erect. He fainted 
in the joy of recognition and she carried him into 
the tent away from the gaze of the crowd. She 
laid him on his cot as tenderly as if he were her 
child. He soon recovered his consciousness, but 
a sharp pang pierced her heart when she saw his 
weakness and was by no means certain that he 
would ever be stronger. 

Possibly he never would have been with ordi- 
nary treatment. Upon that treatment he was not 
required to depend. The time had come for Be- 
dell to exhibit his value as a curative agent. It 
was appointed to him to give to the worn and 
weary prisoner' beauty for ashes, the oil of joy 
for mourning, and the garment of praise for the 
spirit of heaviness. Minus his limb, Richard was 
himself again. He had recovered his splendid 
vigor of body and, now that Van Metre was found, 



THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 293 

his overflowing exuberance of spirits. Wherever 
he went he carried with him an atmosphere of 
invigoration, and every time he came into the sick 
man's presence he brought an abundant supply of 
courage, health, and hope. 

He knew that joy never killed. He had no 
fear that any sick man could be made worse by 
the presence of Betty Van Metre. He was care- 
ful to see that she was provided with remedies 
and restoratives, and then he left the long -sepa- 
rated to their mutual and natural confidences. 

But not for too long a time, for he suspected 
that they might devise some plans for their im- 
mediate future which would interfere with his 
own arrangements. Therefore, early one morn- 
ing he entered their tent as he supposed in the 
most quiet and noiseless manner, but in fact with 
the roar of a small cyclone, and, in a voice ring- 
ing with cheerfulness, demanded to know wheth- 
er they would be ready to leave for the Green 
Mountains next morning. 

It was as he half supposed. As soon as Van 
Metre was strong enough to converse, their 
thoughts had turned toward their home. Van 
Metre knew nothing of the obligations of the 
Union officer to his wife, and in her joy over the 
recovery of her husband the arrangement made 
at Harper's Ferry had for the moment escaped 
her memory. They had agreed that it would be 
necessary to remain where they were until Van 



294 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

Metre was strong enough to travel, when they 
would go to Harper's Ferry, and, as soon as they 
could, they would thence make their way to the 
homestead in Clarke County. 

"I have an objection to that arrangement," 
said Bedell, " which makes it impossible. It ought 
not to be done and it cannot be done." 

"I do not see why it is impossible," said Van 
Metre, "if, as I am informed, an order exists for 
my discharge." 

"The reasons are so numerous that I have not 
counted them," was Bedell's reply. "The natu- 
ral justice of your wife should have pointed out 
to both of you that your return to the valley, or 
your movement in any other direction than to 
my home in Vermont, cannot now be considered. 
In the first place, she is under contract to go 
there, and has already sent forward her niece as 
a pledge for its performance. She is too honora- 
ble to recede from a fair agreement. Then there 
is no place where you, Van Metre, can recover 
your health and spirits so quickly and so cer- 
tainly as in the pure, crisp air of our Green Moun- 
tains. Berryville is now within the Confederate 
lines, and though Secretary Stanton has evinced 
his high esteem for Mrs. Van Metre, I doubt 
whether he would give her a pass to go there. 
Finally, you and I, Van Metre, have done our full 
share of the fighting in this war. I have left a 
good fourth of my l>ody somewhere on the banks 



THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 295 

of the Opeqiian; you have indefinitely scattered 
your liealth between Camp Chase in Central Ohio 
and the James River. Now suppose we offset our 
remaining military value, one against the other, 
and let others finish the fighting of which we have 
done our share. Then you shall come to Vermont 
with me, and when your health and strength are 
restored we can lay plans for the future. If you 
could now return to the valley, they would again 
force you into the service." 

" But why should I impose myself upon you in 
Vermont?" demanded Van Metre. "What have 
I done that you should make me a proposition so 
liberal?" 

"You, perhaps, have done nothing. Your 
wife has saved my life in the hope that her doing 
so might benefit you. I shall leave her to give 
you that history. I am not the man to disappoint 
her hope." 

"This is all new to me," protested Van Metre. 
" I suppose I ought to remain here for a time. I 
am scarcely able now to endure the fatigue of 
travel. When I am, I would like to do what 
is best and right. What that will be I do not 
know, for my judgment has failed with my 
health. I will leave the decision to my wife and 
to you." 

" Then we may as well decide now to comply 
with the suggestions of the lieutenant, "said Mrs. 
Van Metre. " His wife controls me without an 



29G AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

effort and without resistance. He may establish 
a similar control over you." 

"Yielding to reason is not control," said Be- 
dell. " Men persuade, they do not control each 
other." 

Two points upon the Potomac River should be 
forever noted in history for their association with 
the miseries of war. They are Acquia Creek, in 
Stafford County, about twenty miles below Wash- 
ington, and Point Lookout, the peninsula formed 
by the junction of the Potomac River and Chesa- 
jDeake Bay. The first was the place where the 
wounded from the terrible battles of the sum- 
mer of 18(34 were collected for transportation by 
steamer to Washington; the second, the camp 
where the prisoners from the same battles were 
confined. Twenty thousand wounded men have 
been collected at Acquia Creek from the conflicts 
of a single week. Twenty thousand prisoners 
have been confined at Point Lookout at one time. 
That number of idle men anywhere would breed 
discomfort and disease, but at Point Lookout 
there were special facilities for misery. There 
were dense, damp winter fogs that pierced to the 
very marrow ; there were no facilities for heat- 
ing and the sick in the hospitals were among the 
chief sufferers. Van Metre insisted upon the con- 
stant presence of Bedell in his tent, for he said 
his face was a better preventive than quinine for 
the chills which followed his fever and were in- 



THE HARD LOT OP A PRISONER OF WAR. 297 

creased in length and discomfort by the gloomy 
weather. Bedell endured this discomfort only 
for a few days. A morning came when he took 
command of the situation. Entering the tent 
where Mrs. Van Metre was vainly endeavoring to 
extract the cold and moisture from the atmos- 
phere by a liberal combustion of kerosene, he ex- 
claimed : 

"Come! Make such preparations as you can 
to leave this dismal place. I have provided for 
the safety and comfort of the patient. As soon 
as you can get ready, a steamer will leave this 
camp for Washington with no passengers but 
ourselves. We are to have the use of the well- 
heated ladies' cabin. We will start for a coun- 
try where the atmosphere is suited to honest men 
and good women. Here a little air makes one 
wish to die ; there, the more of it you breathe 
the more you wish to live. Van Metre," he said, 
warming with enthusiasm, "if at this moment 
you were sitting before my big fireplace, with the 
chimney roaring like the escajDing steam in a lo- 
comotive as the flames go up from the maple 
back-log, with the children cracking butternuts 
on the hearth, a pitcher of cider on the table, and 
your wife with a happy face sewing by your side, 
the winds and the weather might rage like the 
heathen out-of-doors and they would not disturb 
you. That country is white and cold in winter 
out-of-doors, but the hearts and the homes of its 



298 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

people are warm at all seasons. For that coun- 
try we start this morning." 

" We cannot ! We have talked the matter over 
and it would not be right to burden " 

"Not another word! I am the stronger now 
and I am going to take command and charge, 
just as you did when I lay helpless in that 
desolate room. You, madam, have only your- 
self to prepare. The nurses will carry your hus- 
band on board. If you make any resistance 
they will also carry you . I see they are coming 
now." 

Mrs. Van Metre surrendered. She had no 
power to withstand such impetuosity. Besides, 
in her heart she believed that the change and the 
company of Bedell would lift her husband out of 
his present depression and restore him to health. 
Her preparations therefore involved no delay. 
Under the Secretary's order she receipted for 
the body of her husband; he was carried on board 
with the crippled officer and herself as his only 
companions; the lines of the steamer were cast 
off, and as she gracefully swept around the first 
turn in the river Point Lookout forever disap- 
peared from their view. 

The condition of Van Metre improved with 
every mile left astern by the steamer. By the 
time they reached the landing in Washington, 
he was moving about the cabin slightly assisted 
by his wife. The steamer was to lie at her wharf 



THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 299 

for some repairs to her machinery. The whole 
party hved quietly on board, Bedell only leaving 
her long enough to arrange for their transporta- 
tion to Vermont and to discharge a most agreea- 
ble duty. He called upon General Hitchcock and 
Secretary Stanton and informed them of the suc- 
cess of the search for Van Metre. He learned 
that justice did not travel with leaden feet in the 
War Department. The report of the veteran in- 
spector of prisons had produced an order for a 
court-martial to try the faithless wretch who had 
brought Van Metre so near to the gates of death. 
But for a providential favor he would have been 
recalled from Vermont as a witness upon the trial. 
But the culprit met his deserts in a more speedy 
way. He learned of the order for his trial on the 
day that the party left the camp. He stole a 
small boat and started to cross the river, prefer- 
ring to take his chances with the Confederates. 
He was discovered and ordered by the sentinel to 
return. He disobeyed the order and kept on his 
way ; but he could not outspeed the bullet from 
the Winchester which sped through his merciless 
heart. He plunged overboard and disappeared 
beneath the muddy waters of the Potomac. It 
was a more merciful death than he deserved, and 
it anticipated only by a few days his execution 
by the sentence of a court-martial. For just then 
the people of the North were beginning to appre- 
ciate how great a volume of human suffering 



300 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE, 

could be created by one such man in a camp of 
prisoners of war, and were demanding, in tones 
that struck terror to the hearts of incompetent or 
faithless officers, kind and considerate treatment 
for the captured. 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

"weeping may endure for a night, but jot 
cometh in the morning." 

From the miseries of the prison camp, the 
thunder of battle, and the turmoil of bloody war, 
we turn to the peace and quiet of the north coun- 
try. Nature has just prepared it for a festival of 
thanksgiving. Through the night the snow- 
flakes with noiseless wing have been covering the 
earth with a garment of spotless purity. Just 
when it was finishing, a gentle warmth has 
molded these flakes into crystals which have con- 
verted every naked branch into a drooping spray, 
heavy with jewels which glint and sparkle like 
diamonds in the yellow rays of the morning sun. 
Nature loves contrasts, and lovely as emeralds in 
their silver settings are the dark evergreens above 
the snow. The air is cold, but it teems with elec- 
tric life. The horses are sportive in harness, the 
cattle and the sheep are leaping and racing in 
the farm-yards — animal nature is full to the over- 
flow of vivacity and exhilaration. 

There is no wind. The blue smoke from the 
early-lighted hearths of the scattered homes goes 
straight upward until it is lost in the air filled 

301 



302 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

with innumerable scales of frozen moisture. With 
ruddy faces and frosted breath, the sturdy farm- 
ers turn out with their spirited but well-broken 
teams to break out the roads and tread the snow 
so that their polished sleigh-runners shall draw 
musical sounds from the cold, hard path over 
which they swiftly glide. If on the face of the 
earth there is a region where man with every 
breath draws in a new supply of health and 
strength and glorious vigor of body and mind, it 
is Vermont on a winter's morning. 

There is one household in which unusual ac- 
tivity prevails. From early dawn its mistress 
with her own family and a young girl visitor 
have been busy in preparation- and decoration. 
In the kitchen she has been the Lady Bountiful, 
and now they are making the house beautiful 
with wreaths of evergreens. Opposite the front 
door, along the walls of the square room, in large 
capitals out of the branches of the hemlock and 
the cedar are formed the words •' Welcome home." 
Many times during the day a neighbor's team 
has dashed up to the door, and an eager face 
thrust inside has asked, "Are you certain they 
are coming to-night?" And every one has had 
the same answer, " Yes I certain. We have tele- 
grams from them ; we know that they are on the 
train." 

There are hearts in that household whose loving 
impatience is too powerful to be suppressed. As 



"but joy COMETH IN THE MORNING." 303 

often as once every half -hour the temporary mas- 
ter of the household, the little colonel, has had to 
be assured that the clock has not stopped. When 
it has been opened to show him the pendulum still 
swinging, he has declared that he had doubted 
the statement in the Sunday-school lesson that 
"the sun stood still upon Gibeon," but there was 
no doubt whatever that to-day it stood still upon 
Jay Mountain. The test of his self-restraint was 
still more severe when toward evening he saw 
the sleighs of the neighbors moving swiftly 
toward the railroad station and he knew that 
others would welcome his brave father before 
he saw the face of his own son. With the ap- 
proach of darkness he was given employment. 
He had lighted the lamps and placed them in the 
windows, so many and so bright that from a 
distance the whole house seemed ablaze. 

Then they all waited for the promised signal 
from the railway station, doubtful whether it 
could be heard so far. But fortune had suspended 
its persecutions for the time, and the hand of the 
clock moved never so slowly, but was coming very 
near to the time when the train would be due. 
One more minute passes. This time the locomo- 
tive will not disappoint them. It seems to feel 
the strong attraction of loving hearts for each 
other and shows its best speed. With a fierce 
triumphant scream, it hauls the train into the 

station two whole minutes ahead of time. 
20 



304: AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

At the moment of the whistle a torrent of flame 
bursts from the muzzle of the borrowed cannon, 
spreads outward and upward like a sea wave, and 
recoils from the rock faces of the mountain. Do 
they hear it in the home of the Bedells? They 
could not close their impatient ears against it, 
for now every rock that responds to the discharges 
in quick succession unites them into a thunder 
roll heard through all the region, as if mountain, 
forest, and tree were breaking forth into rejoicings 
to welcome a brave soldier returning from the 
wars. 

And now the moment has come for which the 
boy and his comrades have waited so impatiently. 
They have prepared their own signal of welcome. 
It is on an elevation; away from the buildings 
they have set up a huge pile of dry logs on end. 
To-day they have swept away every flake of snow 
and filled the interstices with splinters of fat pine. 
Each boy now seizes his lighted torch and fires 
the pile all around the base. The flames creep 
swiftly around every log, then leap to the summit, 
and a circular pyramid of fire lights up the road 
to the station and illuminates the surrounding 
country. 

The cheers of many voices succeed to the reports 
of cannon. Over a distant hill comes a team. 
Its four spirited horses scatter music from their 
bells as, under the guiding reins of their skilful 
driver, they speed along the snowy road as if 



"but joy COMETH IN THE MORNING." 305 

proud of the burden they draw. Fearless of the 
bonfire, never once breaking their swift trotting 
step, they dash up to and stand like statues be- 
fore an open door. Something large and very 
much alive within an army overcoat springs from 
the sleigh on a single leg and with both arms 
grasps a woman who fears the giant embrace so 
little that she does not turn away her face. There 
is a creaking, osculatory sound as when the sleigh 
moves swiftly over the cold, hard snow. Then 
the arm of the overcoat lifts a man out of the 
conveyance and sets him on his feet. A woman 
follows — the two women meet with more sounds 
of osculation. An irregular procession, with a 
cripple using his wife as a substitute for a lack- 
ing leg and with children swarming up his back, 
at its head, enters the house, followed by two 
strangers, and the Van Metres are within the 
hospitable home of the Bedells. 

The travellers have reached a haven where 
there is no anxiety or fear. The guests are ex- 
tracted from their unaccustomed polar wraps and 
shown to a room on the ground -floor, with a warn- 
ing that but little time can be spared them for 
preparation, for a slight repast is waiting which 
must be cleared away before the fast teams of the 
neighbors who met them at the station can gather 
in their wives and daughters and return. They 
conformed to the wishes of their hostess and were 
soon seated at her board of simple New Eng- 



300 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

land fare. She was unable to set before them 
anything more appetizing than a young turkey, 
with its chestnut stuffing and cranberry accesso- 
ries, young and tender chickens roasted, fricasseed, 
broiled, and browned into a pie with flaky crust, 
a boiled ham of a delicate pink color, sausages, 
apple-sauce with boiled cider, and a miscellaneous 
assortment of puddings, mince, apple, custard, 
and golden pumpkin pies serving as side-dishes 
and dessert. With these and other incidentals 
the travellers managed to keep hunger at a dis- 
tance for the time. They had scarcely done jus- 
tice to the homely cheer before the music of the 
sleigh-bells and the runners creaking upon the 
hard snow announced the coming of the guests. 
The "welcome" on the wall pervaded the house. 
Never, even in warm-hearted Vermont, was it 
more cordial than that of his fellow-citizens and 
their wives to Bedell and to the woman who had 
saved his life ; never was it more warmly recipro- 
cated than by Bedell and his efficient wife. 

The Van Metres would have appropriated none 
of this cordiality to themselves, and yet they could 
not but feel more like honored guests than stran- 
gers. Van Metre had borne the journey well. He 
was stronger than when he left Washington. 
But Bedell would take no risks, and after he was 
presented to the guests insisted that he should 
retire. The bed was so much more comfortable 
than any which he had used since his first capture 



"but joy COMETH IN THE MORNING." 307 

that it was a long time before he could compose 
himself to sleep. 

For the absence of the heroine of the valley 
the guests would accept no excuse. She was the 
attraction of the evening — the brave woman who 
had saved the life of their fellow-citizen. She 
it was whom the husbands came to honor, their 
wives to know and to love. 

That was also a memorable occasion for Bedell. 
He learned how well he stood in the esteem of 
his neighbors, and he was not spoiled by their 
praises. He could not decline to gratify their 
desire to hear an account of his life in the valley, 
though his story was little more than a hymn of 
praises for his preserver. She, poor woman, was 
as much embarrassed as she had been in the pres- 
ence of Secretary Stanton. She had a hard experi- 
ence with the impetuous beings of her own sex. 
After her husband retired, Mrs. Bedell took her 
arm and with it exclusive possession of her person. 
She presented her to the wives of her neighbors 
as her creditor for her husband's life. She ex- 
tolled her courage and her fearless performance 
of her duty. " She is henceforth to be my sister, " 
she said, "with whom I hope to share whatever 
of good fortune hereafter comes to me." 

The modest Virginian, so fearless in the pres- 
ence of real danger, was overcome by the love of 
many generous hearts. She appealed to her host- 
ess with the simplicity of a child. " You must 



308 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

assist me," she said. "I cannot think what I 
ought to say^ — the words will not come. I must 
be losing the little mind I once possessed ; if you 
do not help me they will think me very stupid !" 

"Then do not try to think or speak," was the 
counsel of her friend. "You are with those who 
will appreciate your silence far better than my 
volubility." 

She did break the silence, however, when, as 
she claimed, Bedell was giving her a credit to 
which she thought she was not entitled. She 
cautioned his neighbors against believing all his 
statements about herself, for, said she a little mis- 
chievously, "he was not always himself in those 
trying days, and some of his impressions may have 
been caused by his delirium." But her protesta- 
tions could not suppress the essential facts. She 
had found Bedell in the very grasp of death. 
She had saved him. But for her his body would 
now have been buried in the distant region where 
he had left his amputated limb. Through her, 
he was now surrounded by his family and friends 
with a prospect before him of a long and useful 
life. Such an undisputed service was enough to 
give her a warm place in their hearts and an es- 
teem which they knew how to express without 
annoyance to a modest woman. They showed 
their consideration in many ways. They knew 
the day had been a weary one for her, and 
that the family of Bedell were entitled to his un- 



"but joy COMETH IN THE MORNING." 309 

disturbed possession. As soon as they had shown 
to Mrs. Van Metre how thoroughly her conduct 
was appreciated, how welcome she was in the 
community to which she had returned a valued 
citizen, and to Bedell how well he stood in their 
esteem, the guests withdrew. But there was no 
man or woman of them who did not bestow upon 
her a parting benediction which made her grate- 
ful that without fear of consequences or the cen- 
sorship of man she had done her duty. 

There are none of the promises of Scripture 
more precious than those of rest to the weary 
soul. There was never a w^eary heart to whom 
rest was more grateful than that of the woman 
whose life for less than a half-year we have at- 
tempted to describe. For almost four years she 
had endured the privations and miseries of war. 
Every hour of her life had been broken by anxiety 
and distress. She had been reduced to poverty, 
her nerves had been shattered by the roar of bat- 
tle, her heart pierced by the sufferings of the 
wounded, her eyes dimmed by f)ictures of the dy- 
ing ; she had mourned her husband as among the 
dead. In all these years when there was not a 
gleam of light, not a rift in the dark horizon of 
her life, she had never yielded. She had always 
bravely met her apparent duty. Now, at last, 
she was in the quiet of the country, surrounded 
by friends where there was none to molest or 
make her afraid. Her husband was with her; 



310 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

he might recover and have a long and useful life. 
Now she knew the meaning of the promise, " Ye 
shall find rest unto your souls." 

Van Metre also had suffered. He had loyally 
served under his flag, he had endured all that 
man could endure and live. With him days had 
grown into weeks and weeks into months of 
suffering more acute than death on the field. 
If now when enfeebled by disease he decided 
not to return to the service, no man could justly 
charge him with any failure to perform his 
duty. 

As the winter passed and the Union lines, 
stronger in number of their defenders, were con- 
tracting around Richmond, and it was apparent 
that the end of the war was aiDproaching, by the 
inevitable result of all future wars between na- 
tions of Saxon origin, the exhaustion of the weak- 
er party. Bedell and Van Metre felt no desire to 
fight their battles over again, and were quite con- 
tent to be spectators of the closing struggle. 

The time had come when the modest, brave 
woman of the valley was beginning to enjoy the 
reward of her heroic performance of her woman's 
duty. There was a marvellous change in her ap- 
pearance. The weary movement of her body dis- 
appeared ; the color of health upon her face was 
fixed ; the sad expression of her eyes was replaced 
by the light of joy and hope. Her step became 
elastic, her figure lithe and graceful. She be- 



"but joy COMETH IN THE MORNING." 311 

came an universal favorite, especially with the 
young. She entered into their plans and plays 
with the spirit of a young girl. She was quick 
to relieve her hostess of the service of the house- 
hold on the plea that she was a learner of New 
England ways. She travelled miles to nurse the 
sick and comfort the mourner, because, as she 
maintained, she must have the exercise. Her 
sweet nature expanded and grew more attractive 
under New England culture until it reached its 
matured perfection. 

Time waits neither for a Vermont nor a Vir- 
ginia farmer. There was no complaint about his 
slowness now. The members of this household 
had been so happy in the society of each other 
that before they were conscious how time was 
passing, winter was reposing in the lap of 
siDring. Bedell, grown strong and stalwart, was 
now unfitted by his loss for a farmer's life, and 
must accept or decline an advantageous offer 
to exchange his farm for an established business 
in a neighboring town. Van Metre felt that he 
had tarried at Westfield until his beard was 
grown. It was heavier now than the one he lost 
at Point Lookout. His face had lost its pallor, 
his muscles had recovered their former density. 
Sheridan had harrowed the valley for the last 
time. If the valley farm was to be made as at- 
tractive and productive as before it was blasted 
by the hot breath of war, its owner must go back 



312 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

and prepare it for the planting and sowing of the 
spring. 

And so with one more separation, the rela- 
tions of the Bedells and the Van Metres are 
brought to an end. This young Virginia woman, 
unconsciously and without an effort, has set be- 
fore the world an example which ought to make 
her name a household word in the Republic, 
The soldier whose life she saved has repaid a part 
of his debt by the restoration of her husband. He 
now bids her farewell, but he will carry to his 
grave the memory of his preserver, the true 
woman and the unconscious heroine. 



NOTE. 

This volume is illustrated by portraits of Mrs. Van Metre 
and Lieutenant Bedell. Their portraits would have been more 
satisfactory if they had represented their respective originals 
at the time when the events occurred which are here recorded. 
But no photographs of either of so early a date existed. 
Those from which these portraits are drawn were taken, that 
of Mrs. Van Meter about twelve and of Mr. Bedell about 
fifteen years after the close of the war. Both represent char- 
acters capable of the acts attributed to them. 

No effort has been made to trace the descent of either of the 
principal characters in this book to any distinguished ances- 
try. But they are all of good blood. A very casual acquaint- 
ance with the histor\^ of the Shenandoah Valley settles the 
question as to the Keysers and the Van Metres. Very early 
in tlie history of the vallej^ there was an emigration to it of 
Hollanders and Germans from New York and Pennsylvania. 



NOTE. 313 

The limestone lands about the headwaters of the Oj^equan Cieek 
were attractive to them. The town of Woodstock was exclu- 
sively settled by them, and for many years the Dutch and 
German languages were the only ones spoken in that settle- 
ment. Dutch customs have survived thei'e to the present time. 
These settlers were among the sturdy patriots of the Revolu- 
tion. It was in the town of Woodstock that Maj.- Gen. John 
Peter Gabriel Muhlenberg, minister of the Lutheran Church, 
di-essed in his uniform, with his sword buckled to his side, 
preached a farewell sermon, in 1776, to his patriotic congre- 
gation, and the next day marched as colonel at the head of 
his regiment to join the Continental army. Such names as 
Strasburg, Mecklenberg, Hamburg, and others show that many 
of the early settlers of the section were of German origin. 

Among these early settlers were the Van Metres and the 
Keysers. Washington's journal, kept while he was surveying 
the lands of Lord Fairfax, in the valley, under date of March 
27th, 1748, records that he "Travell'd over to y" South Branch 
attended with y" Esqr. to Henry Van Metre's, in order to go 
about intended work of lots." The Van Metres were a nu- 
merous family and among the earliest settlers in the valley, 
on the South Branch and along the Upper Potomac. Kerche- 
val in his history says they were people of energy and good 
judges of land. John Van Metre was an Indian trader, who 
accompanied the Delaware Indians in a war party against the 
Catawbas, but the Catawbas, anticipating the attack, surprised 
and defeated the Delawares in a battle near where the court- 
house of Pendleton now stands. John Van Metre escaped and 
returned to New York, but he was so impressed with the 
beauty and fertility of the lands on the South Branch bottom, 
in Hardy County, that he advised his sons to secure lands and 
locate there. Of these sons, Isaac became a man of note and 
frequently represented Hardy County in the House of Dele- 
gates of Virginia. He was a member of the Virginia Con- 
vention of 1788, which ratified the Federal Constitution. In 
1730 it is a matter of history that John and Isaac Van Metre, 
brothers, obtained from Governor Gooch, of Virginia, a war- 
rant for 40,000 acres of land, to be located west of the moun- 
tains. This warrant, or a part of it, they sold to Joost Hite. 



314 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE. 

A number of tracts on the original warrant were surveyed in 
the vicinity of Shepherdstown. The name of Van Metre is 
still frequently met with throughout West Virginia, and has 
its monument in a stream forming the northwestern bound- 
ary line of Jefferson County and emptying into the Potomac, 
and named on the maps of Virginia Van Metre's Marsh. A 
controversy as to the validity of the Van Metre patent was 
raised in 1738 by Lord Fairfax and taken into the courts for 
adjudication, Lord Fairfax contending that his grants cov- 
ered the whole of the western end of the northern neck, while 
the holders claimed that the governor, under authority of the 
crown, had disposing power. This conflict as to title was a 
source of much litigation and was not finally settled until 
after the Revolution, when all the parties to the original suits 
were dead. (Kercheval, " History of the Valley. ") 

The Van Metres, like the Lincolns, were of the sterling, brave, 
and enterprising men who pushed across the mountains and 
won Kentucky and other States of the Great West from the 
Indians. In the second volume of that delightful book by 
Theodore Roosevelt, "The Winning of the West," at p. 101, I 
find the statement that in the spring of 1780 a congregation 
of the Low Dutch Reformed Church, to the number of one 
hundred and fifty heads of families, with their wives and chil- 
dren, their beasts of burden, and their household goods, came 
from Virginia to settle in Kentucky. In the appendix to the 
same volume is given a manuscriiat petition, now in the State 
Department, dated in May, 1780, stating that the settlers "are 
greatly exposed to the saviges by whome ovu- wives and chil- 
dring are daly cruily murdered, " and praying the Continental 
Congress to " take proper methods to form us into a seperate 
state." Among the 640 signers to this petition was Abraham 
Van Metre. 

I do not pursue the genealogy of the characters in this book, 
for I think they are able to stand upon their own merits. I 
have written this note because the facts came to my knowl- 
edge by pure accident, and it is always pleasant to know that 
the present generation sustains the reputation of its sturdy 
ancestry. 

THE END. 



Personul Reminiscences 



IB^O-lBQO 



L. E. CHITTENDEN 

Register of the Treasury under President Lincoln. Author of " An Unknown 
Heroine," etc., etc. 



Large 12 mo, Cloth, Gilt Top, Portrait of the Author, Price $2.00 



Mr. Chittenden's career belongs in so large a measure 
to the history of the United States during the past fifty 
years, his experiences have been so varied and interesting, 
and his. associations so memorable that this volume of his 
"Personal Reminiscences from 1840 to 1890" must take 
rank with the most noteworthy of its class, second to the 
great biographies, but contributing important data for the 
student of our social and political history. It ranges from 
the author's early professional life in Vermont to the min- 
ing camps in the far West, and embraces a wide range of life 
full of incident and graphic descriptions. 

The most important section is doubtless that devoted to 
Mr. Lincoln and his times, and the "Study" with which 
the book closes ... is a sketch by one who was intimately 
associated with the great Emancipator that deserves to be 
included with the contemporary records of the greatest 
character of our times. — The Bookhuyer, New York. 



Sold by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers, 

RICHMOND, CROSCUP & CO. 

9 East 17th Street, New York 



EXTRACTS FROM PRESS NOTICES. 



The New York Times. 



The wide range of the reminiscences is not more remarkable than 
their brightness and originality. 

Tlie New York Recorder. 

One of the makers of history, the Hon. L. E. Chittenden, worthy de- 
scendant of the family tiiat gave to Vermont its revolutionary governor, 
has added to the literature of his country a contribution of considerable 
value in his "Peisdual Keiuiiuscences." The book is pervaded through- 
out by that charm wliicli attaches to the unstudied words of one who 
has lived long among stirring scenes, seen shrewdly, and remembered 
well. 

The Nation, New York. 

Mr. Chittenden's reminiscences will be attractive to men of very dif- 
ferent classes. What we have said will satisfy the book-hunter that the 
book is a revelation after his own heart. 



Literm-y World, Boston. 

Its fervent patriotism and loyalty to tlie national idols and ideas and 
Its unobtrusive but uncompromising Christian faith and spirit make it a 
thoroughly quickening book to one's patriotism and religion. 

Boston Traveller. 

The thousands of readers of Hon. L. E. Cliittenden's " Recollections 
of President Lincoln" will eagerly read the volume of "Personal 
Reminiscences " from his pen. . . . His study of Lincoln which consti- 
tutes the closing chapters is one of remarkable power of analysis and 
abounds in incident hitherto unpublished. 

Portland Transcript. 

The book is a series of delightful talk from a man of wide expe- 
rience. . . . AVe have nothing but commendation for this book. 

Baltimore Sun. 

It is full of good matter of the most diverse kind, the striking recol- 
lertions of an old man. a natural politician, a book-lover, a lawyer of the 
" forties." 

Philadelphia Times. 

A new book from the pen of Mr. Chittenden cannot fail to attract 
public interest. His story of Secretary Chase and his financial jjolicy 
may be accepted as the most reliable we have from any source. 

Philadelphia Inquirer. 

The whole makes a most entertaining record of a well-rounded and 

useful life. 



Chicago Times. 

Mr. Chittenden makes effective reply to the old speculations as to 
Lincoln's religious views. The book throughout is charmingly written. 

The Outlook, Neiv York. 

The last fourth of the volume is taken up with a "study" of 
Abraham Lincoln which will set to rest forever . . . the old questioning 
about Mr. Lincoln's religious faith and hope. 

Boston Journal. 

Future historians will find much interesting material in these per- 
sonal recollections. 

The Neuj York Herald. 

Blr. Chittenden's book is a valuable contribution to the literature of 
reminiscences. 

St. Paul Dispatch. 

The stories are told without literary artifice or mannerisms, and we 
see in it that much amusement can be taken out of the serious work of 
life. 

Pittsburg Times. 

Mr. Chittenden writes out of a full life, rich in experiences, and with 
accurate knowledge of human nature. 

The Neiv York World. 

Mr. Chittenden has told his story so well that it has much of the in- 
cident and connection of a novel. 

The Christian at Woj-k. New York. 

American literature will be the richer for this new addition to its 
stores. 

Tlie Beacon, Boston. 

It is a volume that should have a place in every representative 
American library. 

Burlington Free Press. 

No one who takes up this book will quickly lay it down or leave many 
pages unread. * 

Toledo Bee. 
Blr. Chittenden as a story-teller has few equals. 

Union and Advertiser, Rochester. 
It is rich in anecdote and delightfully written. 

Minneapolis Tribune. 

The student of history, lover of biography and of good reading 
should not neglect Mr. Chittenden's book. 




'/////iz!ii'/fi«i^.%i;^^ 



